Reality Is My Co Pilot
by LizIs
Summary: Life is unforgiving. Only the strong survive, staying strong by preying on the weak. That is the reality of life in the Wasteland. But one girl helps trigger a change in the wastes that will be felt for generations. In the process, she alters the reality of a ghoul who thought he knew who he was and helps him come to terms with with a dark secret. *Bethesda owns Fallout*
1. Chapter 1: Turtle Girl

Chapter 1

Exhaustion. Pure and penetrating. Whether from dehydration, hunger, overexertion or a combination of all three, she was not going to make it. _No, I'm too close now. I can get there, _she monument lay ahead. It was taunting her, standing tall after two centuries of neglect and war. She, however, felt close to death after less than one week completely on her own in the wastes. Her body was now operating on autopilot. Right foot, step. Left foot, step. Right foot, step. Left foot… The added weight of an old-world relic on her back was not helping her coordination. But she had to make it to the towering monument. _I have to get the… thing on the…. Stuff… or… wait, what was going to happen?_ And why was the monument leaning sideways like that other tower she'd seen in the vault holotapes? _Pila? Pizza?... Ah, Pisa!_ she proudly recalled as the monument's orientation changed again before her eyes. Her last thoughts before losing consciousness were of Italian architecture and baked crusts.

* * *

Willow stood ever-vigilant… well, semi-vigilant… at her post outside of Underworld. The sun was falling lower in the sky as she engaged in another delightful game of "Stand still while those Brotherhood assholes take poorly aimed shots at the feet of the Underworld sentry and try to look like I don't give a fuck." As distracting as the power-armored soldiers' antics were, she had enough multi-tasking capacity to keep scanning the surrounding landscape while smoking and being shot at. _Yeah, I can multi-task with the best of 'em,_ she commented wryly to herself. And in all her multi-tasking glory, she briefly saw something shimmer at her 2 o'clock.

It was small, human or ghoul sized, and moving erratically. Someone with a Stealth Boy was making their way across the Mall in the direction of those other assholes. For a fleeting moment, Willow allowed herself to imagine it was one of the ghouls from Underworld, maybe Quinn, Charon or even Winthrop, who'd had enough of the bullshit and was going to launch a sneak attack against those Brotherhood idiots. _Pfft, unlikey. Winthrop would have to grow a pair and Quinn wouldn't use a Stealth Boy on himself when he could trade or sell it,_ she thought. _And Charon can't take a piss without Ahzrukhal's permission. _It was then that the shimmering form flickered out of stealth to reveal an oddly shaped individual swaying clumsily, staring at the Washington monument. A moment later, the figure collapsed face down, with what looked to be a giant shell covering its back.

"What the hell?" Willow quietly mumbled as she exhaled the last drag of her cigarette and flicked it to the ground. From her perspective the figure sort of looked like a turtle, what with the rounded dome-like shape on its back. The image triggered a distant pre-war memory of a comic about turtles becoming mutated in sewers, learning to do Tae Kwon Do from an opossum or some such nonsense. Nonsense back then, anyway. Nowadays, mutated anything was an everyday occurrence. _Not that the wastes need giant mutated turtles on top of all the other shit_, she thought, _but it'd sure be funny if it hopped up and gave one of those bastards a roundhouse kick to the face_.

By now, the collapsed figure had gotten the attention of the Brotherhood. As a small detachment of armored soldiers approached it, Willow cupped her hands and lit another cigarette. The soldiers were all staring at it, discussing what to do, if anything. After several minutes one of them approached the figure cautiously, rifle extended. He poked at it a few times with the business end of his gun, then shrugged his shoulders in the direction of what Willow assumed was his commander. Over the winds of the wasteland she could make out "Looks like a civilian, sir. Has some sort of shield on her back. Unconscious but her vitals are good. Should we call for-" He was interrupted sternly by the man in charge.

"No, leave it. We can't waste our resources on every wastelander that falls to the elements."

"But sir" the first man replied "it's Elder Lyons' policy to help anyone who -"

"Elder Lyons is _not_ here. Resources are stretched thin enough as it is. If her vitals are good, she'll regain consciousness and move along in due time."

And that was the end of the discussion for the Brotherhood, though clearly some of the men were not happy about the order. Willow stood a few minutes longer, watching the scene and deciding if she cared enough about turtle girl to get off her ass. As she realized she had just extinguished her last cigarette, Willow decided she was at least kinder than those Brotherhood assholes. She holstered her weapon as she slowly approached the monument, hands in the air. _Outta cigarettes anyway. Gotta kill time somehow. _

The girl was approximately half way between Underworld and the monument. So, she mentally justified to herself as she walked uncertainly towards the men who'd just been shooting at her feet for kicks, maybe she fell to Underworld's jurisdiction… or something. _If there is such a thing anymore._ She slowed down further as the guns aimed in her direction and called out.

"Hey! You assholes gonna just leave that there? She looks like one of your kind, humans. Aren't you guys out here to make the wastes a better place for the armed and the beautiful?"

The commander was in no mood for bantering but to his credit, did not fire on Willow. "Why do you care, zombie? Hungry for a snack?"

"Yea I sure am, but since I only eat _brains_ you fellas are perfectly safe. Now are you seriously gonna leave this girl out here to die? Her rotten carcass'll be great for attracting Super Mutants to your post."

At this last comment, the commander paused thoughtfully while the eyes of his men darted towards the ruins, their hands tightening involuntarily on their weapons. There was a long, uncomfortable silence and Willow could see the indecision on the commander's face.

"Yea, that's what I thought. Now if you'll kindly not shoot me, I'll take her to a _doctor_ now."

She moved slowly towards the figure on the ground, wary of making any quick movements around the trigger-happy soldiers. Willow hooked one of the girl's arms around her shoulders and started dragging her back to Underworld. She was tempted to untie the bulky object from the girls back to make the load easier, but for some reason decided that if she had gone to the trouble of hauling it across who-knows-where it might be worth saving. As she approached the entry to the Chop Shop Willow couldn't help but think, _Kid, you'd better be worth the trouble._


	2. Chapter 2: Waking in Underworld

Chapter 2

Fiona awoke in an unfamiliar room. The acrid odor of antiseptic and the faint smell of Abraxo told her she was in a clinic but little more. The lights were off and the only illumination was a soft green glow from behind her. Sitting up slowly, she stretched her back. She was still light-headed but glad to be… wherever this was. It was quiet and felt safe. Looking around, she saw someone in the corner working intently on a terminal. She opened her mouth to speak at the same moment she turned towards the source of glowing illumination behind her… and screamed.

Staring at her through a pane of glass were two feral ghouls, glowing green and pressing their faces against the window. Fiona reached for a weapon only to discover her 10mm SMG was not holstered at her side. She scrambled backwards and in her haste, fell off the bed and hit the floor with all the grace of a potato sack. Her feet pistoned until she hit the far wall of the clinic and she looked about wildly for something to defend herself with. At that moment a low gravely voice spoke out.

"Whoa there, smoothskin. You're safe. No freaking out on us, ok?" A ghoul turned around from the terminal in the corner and approached her cautiously, as if she were a wild animal. "My name is Dr. Barrows. You're in my clinic in Underworld. No one here is going to hurt you. Not even Ethyl and Meat over there" he said pointing to the ferals who, upon closer inspection, looked more curious than ferocious.

Fiona's breathing slowed down and she calmed herself. "Um, ok. Sorry, I just… I mean, in the metros they, the ones like that, they attacked me for no reason and… Wait, did you say Underworld?"

"Yes" Barrows replied. "I don't know how long you've been on the surface kid, but up here some humans have a kind of radiation sickness. Don't be afraid. I'm not a zombie and it's not contagious." He was standing next to her now, hands cautiously open in a gesture of peace. Fiona relaxed and let out a sigh and a small laugh.

"Sorry, Dr… Barrows? I'm ok. I know about ghouls and I've heard of Underworld. I'm still just disoriented and tired. Seeing those two first thing after coming to gave me a heart attack. Hey, how'd you know I came from a vault?"

Barrows sighed with relief. Though he'd only had to give "the talk" a few times in his life, it was always awkward trying to explain ghouls to someone new to the wasteland. He hated bigots but when someone emerged from the sheltered environment of a vault and saw a ghoul for the first time, it was honestly hard to blame them for their horrified reaction. Normal wastelanders though, people who damn well knew better, were another story.

"Kid, it's a compliment when I say that it's pretty damn obvious you've lived in a vault until recently. Your skin is perfect, even for a smoothskin. And your teeth have been taken care of too. Also, you're not skinny as a rail… yet. So yea, figuring out where you came from didn't take much effort. Good to hear I won't have to give 'the talk' about where ghouls come from though" he said with a smirk.

She was now a little embarrassed about having panicked in front him and smoothed her hands down the front of her leather armor. "Ok, let's try the introduction again then" she said smiling as she extended her hand. "I'm Fiona. It's nice to meet you Dr. Barrows." Barrows was surprised that she would offer to touch him, but politely shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you too, Fiona" he added. Barrows pointed to the window. "That's Meat and Ethyl. They're here for the research I'm doing into the ghoulification process. They're secured in the observation room, though. And they're pretty docile. So no worries, ok?"

"Ok. Good to hear it." She replied. " So, now that I'm conscious… how'd I get here? How long have I been out? And where are my things?" She stopped suddenly, her eyes wide open. "Oh crap, the dish! Did I come in with a satellite dish?! Please tell me I didn't loose it!"

"Relax, kid. You were only out a few hours. Your stuff is behind the screen over there" Barrow said, pointing to the end of the room. "And what's up with the dish you had strapped on you anyway? Willow thought you were a mutated turtle when she saw you keel over in the Mall. By the way, you've got a nickname now."

Fiona groaned inwardly. "A nickname, eh? Do I wanna know?"

"Turtle girl" Barrows informed her.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, with that thing on your back while you were face-down in the dust, Willow thought you looked like a turtle." Barrow smiled at this, mentally picturing a man-sized metal backed turtle. "I think the nickname's gonna stick too. Sorry, kid."

"Well, it could be worse I guess." _Definitely have been called worse in the vault, _thought Fiona. "I, uh… I was hauling this thing to the monument because I'm running an errand for that ass-hat Three Dog."

"The DJ?" said Barrows, quizzically raising an eyebrow.

Fiona nodded. " He just needed a teeny tiny favor involving retrieving pre-war technology from Super Mutant infested museums. Ya know, the usual milk run. If it wasn't for some antique Stealth Boys I found on display, I probably would've been made a permanent part of the exhibit." She gave a small shudder as she flashed back to the dark interiors of the museum.

_Sneaking, carefully moving past the green abominations, her muscles screaming in agony from the unnaturally slow and measured movements. Trying to stay silent, listening for movement over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears_.

Fiona shook her head as she came back to the present. "As it is, I barely made it out alive. I was on my way to repair his busted dish on the Washington Monument when I passed out. Guess I've been traveling non-stop longer than I thought."

"Wait…so the Brotherhood were expecting you?" asked Barrows.

"Well, I think so. I assume Three Dog told them to expect a new dish and one-woman repair crew…" at this, Barrow's faced narrowed. "But I take it from the look on your face they were not expecting me when I passed out in front of them?" Fiona asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Not from what Willow told me when she hauled you in. Seemed like they didn't know what to make of you and were gonna leave you to…sleep it off" Barrows told her, with a wry expression.

Exasperated, she said, "Why am I even surprised anymore? I'm doing a damn favor for _them_ and they don't know about it or care!" after her outburst, she sank a little, as if she remembered how tired she was. "What a brave new world I have stumbled upon" she said sarcastically. "Sorry, Doc…just frustrated."

She approached the screen that Barrows had pointed out. Fiona unwrapped the dish from the blanket she'd had it covered with, inspecting to see that it was still in good condition. Well, at least the same condition she originally found it in. _A turtle, huh? I must have looked silly. But since mutants apparently like to shoot 'shiny things' I wasn't gonna risk walking around with a shiny target on my back, stealth or not. _She finished inspecting her belongings, checking to see that everything was accounted for, and fished out some caps. Though the doctor seemed kind, she'd learned nothing is free in the wasteland. She handed Dr. Barrows a handful of caps before he even had a chance to ask and nodded appreciatively.

"Know where a girl can get some dinner and a drink, doc?" she asked.

Barrows pointed up. "Upstairs. Carol's Place. And try and get some liquid in you that doesn't contain alcohol" he said half-heartedly, knowing it was probably a futile suggestion.

* * *

A few hours later, Fiona was in the best mood she'd experienced in weeks. She was safe (as much as one can be outside of a vault), full of food, and feeling no pain. Best of all Carol turned out to be hands-down, the sweetest woman in the Capitol Wasteland. Fiona had never known her mother, but she felt a motherly warmth in the ghoulette's presence. Now, more than ever, she needed a parent.

It wasn't long before Carol had Fiona's entire life story out of her. Everything from her vault childhood to her traumatic escape was laid out in a few short hours that night. Carol asked all sorts of questions about her time in the wasteland as well. Fiona told her about how she had been lucky enough to stumble upon Megaton her first day outside where there were at least a few decent people willing to cut her a break. The last several days as she had searched for GNR, and then the Museum of Technology, was the first time she'd ever been truly alone.

When pressed, Fiona confessed to being the 'famous' Vault Girl who diffused the atomic bomb in the center of Megaton. "Oh I didn't just waltz into town and start tackling the casing, though" Fiona explained as Carol and a few other ghouls present began to Ooooh and Awww. "It was far less dramatic than that. My dad taught me rudimentary electronics and explosives. But it was only after about six weeks of studying and experimenting on mines that I got confident enough to try. I was shaking the whole time. But after it was disarmed, I got rewarded with some caps and the deed to a house."

She continued her story with how she'd made a living doing odd jobs for Moira, the local general store owner, and eventually paid Moriarty for the information that led her to GNR. Upon hearing Fiona's description of the saloon and heard her mention the name 'Gob', Carol could barely contain her squeal of joy. "He's my son!" she shouted, then stopped. "Well, sort of. He's _like_ a son to me," Carol explained.

Fiona didn't have the heart to tell her that Gob was a slave in Megaton, so she simply glossed over the details by telling Carol that he "worked at a bar" in the town and that he had been the first genuinely kind person she encountered. Carol beamed with motherly pride and made a comment about having 'raised him right' that made Fiona's mind wander back to her own family troubles.

_Dad, where are you? Why did you run off without a goodbye? What could possibly be out here that is more important than me? _

Noticing her far away look, Carol reassured her. "Oh, dearie. I'm sure you'll find your father. He sounds like a very nice man and I'm sure whatever his reason for leaving was, it was important."

"I hope so, Carol. I mean, I'd have gone after him anyway even without an angry mob chasing me. It's just… I have no idea what he's doing out here or why he lied to me." she said pensively. Then her voice took an angry tone. "I get that the Overseer is a big sack of crazy who wants everyone to forget the surface exists. And maybe that's why my dad lied to me when I was younger. But why couldn't he have told me the truth when I was old enough? Did he really expect me to live my entire life in a metal hole in the ground with a few dozen stir-crazy people for company?"

At this, she stopped and her thoughts turned inward. It was becoming easier for Fiona to see the vault lifestyle and its residents as foreign and unhealthy with each passing day, when just several weeks ago, it was the only life she'd ever known. During her first few days on the surface, she had been so intimidated by the sun and the sky that she couldn't be outdoors for more than a few minutes without panic setting in. But soon she adapted. In fact, as she was becoming accustomed to the real world, she was beginning to feel more at home in the freedom of the hellish wasteland than she ever did in the false paradise of the vault. It was as if her body and mind had been searching for the sky all her life without her realizing it.

"Fiona dear," Carol broke in, gently interrupting her thoughts "parents only do what they think is best for their children. In fact, they will go to incredible lengths to do precisely that. But it doesn't mean they're always correct in the choices they make. I'm sure the vault seemed like the safest place in the world, and in terms of _physical_ safety it may very well be." She put her hand on Fiona's shoulder reassuringly. "You'll find him sweetheart. And when you do you can show him how strong and capable you are and that you didn't need as much protecting as he thought." At this, Carol heard an obviously forced cough and turned to see one of the ghouls catch her attention by raising what was left of an eyebrow. Carol paused for a moment, recalling how exactly Fiona was brought into Underworld to begin with. "On an unrelated note… have you thought about hiring a bodyguard?"

* * *

By the time Fiona lay down in her rented bed, it was well past midnight. Though physically exhausted, her mind was abuzz with a mixture of curiosity and fear. She had never been a light sleeper before, but since leaving the vault, every noise, no matter how innocuous, would wake her instantly and set her body on high alert. She knew her new sleep patterns were a result of her uneasiness in these wasteland surroundings. Carol had made a decent argument for the necessity of a bodyguard. She was more 'worldly' now than she had been several weeks ago, but was still nowhere near ready to wander the wasteland on her own. She'd come close to death half a dozen times just making the trek from Megaton to inner DC.

The thought that she might not survive long enough on her own to find her father was unbearable. She _had _to find him. She needed answers. His wordless abandonment was the beginning of a domino effect, revealing everything she thought she knew to be lies. The vault motto "…born in the vault, die in the vault": a lie. Tales of the surface: lies. Her birthplace: a lie. Her mother… a sudden wave of dread came over Fiona at the thought of what little she knew about her being a lie as well. For all she knew, her mother was alive somewhere and her Dad had kidnapped her as a baby. Or maybe her mother left and wanted nothing to do with them and so her father told her she had died. Nothing seemed impossible now. Whether he had intended it or not, her father's escape from the vault had ruined lives, and ended some as well. Jonas, of all people, did not deserve to have been caught up in the chaos and pay with his life. Her father _would_ give her answers when she found him.

So it was settled. She needed help. If nothing else, the presence of a guard would help her sleep. Having someone take a watch so she could sleep half the night would be a big improvement over the 10-15 minute naps interrupted by every noise and echo. Eventually, the luxury of the soft mattress overtook her internal monologue and sleep embraced her.

In the morning, Fiona took stock of her supplies. She wasn't desperately low on funds, but even with Carol's 'family' discount, the room still cost 100 caps. Money. Budgeting. This was a big change from the economic system of the vault. Back there, every resident had rations and vouchers for their basic needs. You were guaranteed enough food and drink, a place to sleep, etc. The luxuries were the little extras like a comic or rare holotapes. Out here, regularly meeting one's basic needs were a luxury. On the outside, it had taken some major adjusting of her perspective on the value of items to understand the more capitalistic ways of the world. Everything, no matter how basic, had a price. Nothing was free.

Back in 101, any collection-type behaviors would have been called "hoarding" and might land a person in therapy. With limited physical space and a communal lifestyle, there was no room for a single person to gather and claim more for him/herself aside from what was used daily. Out here, "hoarding" just meant being a successful scavenger. Fiona had never been a collector of belongings back in the vault because everything was provided. There was no urgency to claim and squirrel away resources. But out here, she realized she would have to learn to sort through garbage and collect 'treasures' if she was going to survive.

Fiona rifled through her pack to organize her things for the next leg of her journey. She had bought plenty of water from Carol and food for at least a week. She had several weapons she'd 'liberated' from attackers but had no intention of using herself. Those would fetch some good caps. She also had a wide variety of chems. Though she had yet to try anything but Buffout, Fiona collected all the chems she could find. They weighed next to nothing and everyone was willing to buy them. She estimated she could easily sell her excess goods for a few hundred caps.

She'd need more 10 mm ammo before she set out again, however. Also, her assault rifle showed signs of needing some serious TLC. In a moment of sheer terror she could still clearly recall, it had jammed on her in the metros when she encountered some charging ferals. Luckily, she was able to switch to her SMG in time to finish the last one off. But it had been a close call. Weapons maintenance was now very high on her to-do list.

A count of her caps revealed she had a little more than she'd previously estimated, just shy of 700. After she sold her stuff and bought supplies, she should have roughly 1,000 caps. She wasn't sure how much a bodyguard would cost to hire, or where to find one for that matter. But surely it would be more than enough for an escort through DC. She wondered how guards charged fees. By the day? By the mile? By each attacker shot?

Fiona wasn't sure where Three Dog's information would take her next on her journey, but it was sure to be no less dangerous than what she had experienced so far in the search for her father. Regardless of what her next steps might be, she had to find Rivet city sometime soon. Moira had her working on the final chapter of her survival guide and it included a summary of Rivet City's history. She also needed to find Bryan Wilks a new home and her only lead was an aunt who supposedly lived there. _How did I ever intend to do all this alone?_

Fiona neatly piled her caps into stacks of 20 and wrapped each one tightly with paper. This way she would able to count them out more quickly and avoid the tell tale jingling that all too often gave a person away who was trying to go unnoticed. Bottle caps as currency, though it had sounded ludicrous to her at first, was no crazier than the slips of paper that had represented old world currency. Both are pretty useless as practical items, but represent an economic system that works because people want it to.

Fiona headed downstairs to a shop Carol had mentioned. It looked abandoned at first until she noticed the petite ghoulette standing in the far corner, humming to herself and staring contemplatively at her inventory shelves. Fiona cleared her throat to get the woman's attention.

"Oh! A… a customer! Um, hi. Welcome to Underworld Outfitters. I'm Tulip. How can I help you?" Tulip seemed genuinely surprised that a person was actually in her shop. "Feel free to look around. Stay awhile… no really! Whatever it is you're looking for, I'm sure I can find it. Maybe you got something to sell… I'll give you a fair price! Just stay and look around and make yourself at home. If you have any questions, just ask. Or just talk. Whatever. How about some coffee?" The words rushed out of her in a stream like she didn't know when she might get to talk to another living soul and she had to make the most of this chance.

Fiona sighed. _This might take awhile._

An hour later, Fiona was 400 caps richer, loaded up with supplies and had a _possible_ lead on a bodyguard for hire. Tulip had been very eager to talk about anything and everything Fiona inquired about. The topic of possible guards for hire had not turned up anything until Tulip mentioned a bouncer at the local bar who was an "employee" of the owner, but who wasn't paid or allowed to do anything without permission.

"So he's a slave?" Fiona had asked.

"Well, not technically. If you ask Ahzrukhal about it he'll give you some long-winded story about brainwashing and earning one's chains or something. He says Charon is not a _slave -_ just programmed to act like one. It's uh… it's messed up but people here are too afraid to press the issue." Tulip frowned at this. "Ahzrukhal is a sneaky one and Charon is his unthinking kill-bot. So, yea. That's the only bodyguard type I know, and he hasn't budged from that bar in years. Sorry." Then she brightened. "Maybe those Brotherhood guys know someone."

_Umm….yeah. "Not slave" Charon it is. _Fiona headed upstairs and into the Ninth Circle.


	3. Chapter 3: Bartering For A Life

Chapter 3

The air inside the bar smelled stale and thick, the yeasty smell of flat beer competing for attention with the cigarette smoke. Yellowed lighting and faded dirty tables adorned the Ninth Circle. The mood of the patrons was equally cheery. A handful of ghouls glanced towards Fiona as she entered, hunched over their drinks with the permanent slouch of the professional barfly. She could tell everything she needed to know about them from their vacant expressions and glassy eyes. As she scanned the room, she saw a massive ghoul standing alone in a corner. His face looked relaxed and bored, but his eyes were sharp and took in every movement around him. She sensed a dangerous coiled energy beneath his placid exterior. _Still waters run deep, _she thought to herself. He had to be the one Tulip was talking about.

Fiona casually approached him to ask his name but before she could get a single word out, she was interrupted. "No. Talk to Ahzrukhal."

She stood with her mouth open, her unsaid greeting caught stillborn in her throat. "Oh. Um, I just…" she stumbled on her words. She'd not expected the immediate brush-off.

"Talk. To. Ahzrukhal." He was not going to budge.

"…_O. K_!" she said sarcastically. _Wow, either this Charon guy is a piece of work, or on a much shorter leash than described._

"Ahem…" She turned around to see a ghoul in a dirty pre-war suit standing behind the bar with an oily grin. His smile was ostensibly friendly but there was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes. Despite the crawling sensation on her skin, Fiona approached the bar as casually as possible and took a seat. She smiled politely at the "not slave" owner and took a moment to gather her thoughts.

_If he's as manipulative as I think he is, I need to get this negotiation right the first time. _HE_ needs to be the one to bring up the topic of letting me hire, or "buy", Charon_. Fiona gathered from what Tulip had told her that Ahzrukhal wasn't a trustworthy sort. She suspected that any deals they struck may come with hidden strings, and that was assuming he didn't just renege once he had what he wanted.

"Oh my, a new face in Underworld. And a beautiful one at that. Don't mind Charon. He's not very chatty. Now how can uncle Ahzrukhal help cure what ails you?" As he leaned in, the smell of cheap cologne wafted towards her along with a faint hint of rot.

She was about to say _beer_, but she stopped herself. Her mind suddenly flashed to a memory of a pre-war _femme-fatale_ holotape star in a scene similar to this.

"I'll have a vodka," she said, seductively. She almost said "please" before she remembered where she was and the role she was playing. _He doesn't get a_ _please_, she thought ruefully. _And Vera Keyes never asks twice_, she recalled from the movie scene.

"Coming right up." A shot glass of clear spirits appeared in front of her with an almost magical quickness. She sipped it slowly, surprised by the strong burn as the liquor slid down her throat. _So that's what vodka tastes like_. She stifled the urge to cough only with the greatest of effort.

"Is there anything else you need? I do stock a wide variety of… 'fixes' if you're in the market or just looking to try something new," he drawled.

"Just the vodka. Though, I do have some questions about your _rude_ employee." She feigned an insulted expression as she glanced back over her shoulder at the stoic ghoul.

Ahzrukhal laughed loudly. "Now don't get your panties in a bunch, sweetheart. I'm sure most men bend over backwards for _you_, but don't take his remarks personally. It's all he's _allowed_ to say to new people. He's not a typical waged worker, you see."

_All right, here it comes. Get through the bullshit speech so I can work some magic on you, you sleazy old bastard,_ she thought as he began to describe Charon's peculiar contract. Fiona put on her best "interested face" and leaned forward across the bar, mirroring his body language to put him at ease. She also made sure the jacket on her armor was unbuckled so that he would get a good view of her cleavage.

While she hated playing the unfamiliar role of seductress, there was no denying the impact of her looks in the wasteland. Perhaps Barrows was right about her "perfect" skin and teeth. She never thought of herself as exceptionally attractive growing up, but in the wastes apparently she was a real looker based on the attention she'd received in Megaton. _Or maybe guys on the surface just have lower standards._

Vault 101 had been seeded primarily with Caucasians and their standards of beauty ruled. Her short stature and Asian features, though not unattractive, were not widely appreciated either. In contrast, Megaton had no problem appreciating her exotic "look". She'd actually been worried about _unwanted attention_ at first, but Lucas Simms seemed to keep the men of the town in line and he took sexual violence more seriously than a lot of wastelanders. Outside the walls of Megaton, it was a different story.

_Just one more reason I need a bodyguard. _And as that thought occurred to her, she was disappointed in herself for secretly feeling glad that Charon was "restricted" behaviorally. A hired mercenary might decide to take his chances in the night and risk getting fired. But a brainwashed "not slave" wouldn't be able to_…_ theoretically.

As she listened, made the appropriate noises and maintained eye contact, Azhrukal grew relaxed and more expansive in his speech. "Not that he's a big talker even without my standing orders. But don't interpret his silence as stupidity. _That_ would be a mistake," he said, wagging his finger with mock sternness. "He's a very capable fighter and an excellent shot. He's the best thug a corrupt bartender could ask for. Best of all, since I hold his contract, he's not allowed to bother me with his annoying sense of… morality." This last word, he spat out with some distaste. He then formed his hand into an imaginary gun and looked down the barrel. "All I have to do is point at something and Charon hurts it." He blew the imaginary smoke from his finger and gleamed like a proud father as he looked back over to Charon. Fiona almost let her face slip to reveal her true feelings of disgust but she stayed in character. She also made a mental note to investigate Charon's sense of morality. If Ahzrukhal found it annoying, she'd probably get along with Charon just fine.

"Wow, that's _amazing_," Fiona said, with an expression of rapt attention on her face. "I've never heard of anything like that before. He's like, the perfect mercenary?"

"Oh absolutely. 200 years of battle experience at my beck and call." Ahzrukhal beamed with the pride of ownership.

"I mean, he's not like… _unstable_ is he? I've heard that sometimes brainwashed people can snap." Fiona was doing her best to seem interested and not disgusted with the concept.

"Oh goodness no. I won't claim to know all the details of his conditioning but I do know it was thorough. He can't _exist_ without a contract holder. He will protect me with his very life. Best investment I ever made." Ahzrukhal leaned forward again, uncomfortably close. "And something tells me you might benefit from a similar investment. I heard about how Willow found you. Terrible that. All alone in the wastes."

_Show time. Remember – you're a tough femme fatale. Who just needs a little help_. "Yea, it's rough out there. And I've got a long trek to make. Now that _you've_ talked him up, Ahzrukhal, I might be interested in working out an arrangement." Now it was her turn to lean in close, a pose that just happened to reveal more cleavage. "Is there some sort of Charon rental program we can work out?" Truthfully, Fiona was angling for a permanent arrangement but she knew better than to give away her intentions too soon.

"Afraid it doesn't really work like that, smoothskin. His contract binds him to me and ensures his obedience to my commands and protection of my person and assets. He doesn't 'rent out' to women, unfortunately" he said, his hands held out in a gesture of helplessness. "Believe me, if he did I'd make a lot of money off the lonely ghoulettes in this place." He snickered and smirked condescendingly, gesturing in Charon's direction. This last part was loud enough to be heard over the crowd. If Charon heard, his face betrayed nothing. She shot back the remainder of the cheap booze in her glass.

"I'm not talking about _those_ kinds of services," she said saucily, choking back a scowl at the would-be man pimp. "I'm in the market for some temporary protection. Surely if you ordered him to, he could bear to part from you for a few weeks or so. Everything has a price after all." By now, Fiona was so disgusted with Ahzrukhal she had no intention of leaving Charon here at all. Unlike Moriarty, who would never let Gob out of his debt because the sick bastard found it amusing, she could tell Ahzrukhal would be willing to let Charon go… for a price. But she knew if she wanted to get his contract without paying through the nose… or God forbid, through some other body part –_shudder- _she'd need to seem more reluctant than she really was.

"It's not that simple, sweetheart," Ahzrukhal continued. "If he's off in the ruins watching your gorgeous ass, he's not fulfilling his contractual duty to be guarding me. As his contract holder, he _has_ to put me first. Even if I ordered him to get lost, he couldn't unless…" he paused, as if deep in thought. "I handed his contract over to somebody else" he said, looking at her meaningfully.

"Hmmm," Fiona hummed thoughtfully. "I honestly don't think I need a permanent 7 foot shadow. I was more in the market for a temporary hire."

"Don't know what to tell you, smoothskin. It's the one disadvantage of an employee like him. No flexibility." He then put on his best salesman smile. "But I can assure you it'd be a good investment. Temporary hires cost more caps in the long run than a one-time purchase" he stood back with a smug look, feeling like he'd gotten the upper hand and "up-sold" her on the purchase.

"Look, let's pretend I'm even interested in something like this. If this guy is going to be around _all_ the time, I need to know he's not going to piss me off. I want to talk to him before I decide." Fiona kept up a cool air of reluctance.

"Well, if you want him to stay quiet all you have to do is order it like I did. But, I don't see the harm," he shrugged. "Fine, go chat him up with my permission. But don't take too long. I've got a business to run and Charon's watchful gaze is an integral part of its homey warmth," he said, without a trace of irony. Ahzrukhal nodded to Charon, who had undoubtedly heard the conversation.

The ghoul did not move to sit down as Fiona approached him. His posture remained unchanged from its relaxed stillness but his sharp eyes moved to focus in on her. In that moment, Fiona felt like a small animal walking up to a predator. She stopped just short of him and gestured to the small table next to him. Charon glanced quickly to his employer, who nodded. He sat down uneasily, dwarfing the frame of the chair with his own. Fiona sat with her back to the bar.

"Hello, Charon." Fiona kept her voice low enough that Ahzrukhal wouldn't be able to eavesdrop too easily. "I'm sure you overheard my conversation with your employer." He nodded expressionlessly. "He has given you permission to speak to me and to be honest. So, I wanted to ask you a bit about your experience." His face remained blank. "Do you really have _200 years_ of combat experience? And are you as good as advertised?"

"I do. And I am." He said this with a finality that left little room for doubt.

She continued. "While it was true when I told him I wanted to speak to you before I made a decision, it wasn't for the reasons he thinks." Being direct was her only option for her next question. "Tell me, Charon. Is everything he said about your contract true? Do you really _have_ to be under the contract of an employer? If I were to buy this document and hand it to you, telling you to go live your life as you like… you really _couldn't_ do it?" Fiona secretly hoped he was not _as_ brainwashed as advertised. If he was, there was no way she would leave here today not feeling like a slaver after the purchase was made.

"Yes. He told you the truth. I am bound to serve whoever holds my contract." He paused slightly. "For good or ill." She could tell this was a statement he'd made many times.

"Do you rely completely on your employer's permission for everything, or are you capable of using independent judgment?" She couldn't avoid the condescending note in her question, but she had to know if his behavior was limited by orders or programming.

Just for a second, his mask of impassivity slipped and he looked insulted and resentful before his face quickly turned back to stone. "I am more than capable of using independent judgment and do not require orders to dictate my every move," he explained carefully, as if to a child. "However, my employer has standing orders regarding my behavior and requires that I seek permission for any actions that fall outside a set of strict guidelines," he said with a vaguely irritated air.

"Wow. How long have you been in his, uh… employment?" Fiona had already heard a rough estimate of "a few decades" from Tulip, but wanted to hear it from him.

Charon responded flatly. "Perhaps 50 years, though I'm not sure exactly."

_Holy. Shit. _"And you've been here in this bar that whole time?" She felt the outrage creeping into her voice.

He nodded slowly. "I leave on occasion to take care of things for Ahzrukhal. Also, there have been a few instances where I was needed outdoors to help manage confrontations."

"Sounds like he has you on a pretty short leash, Charon." Fiona paused for a moment. "Do you _like_ having Ahzrukhal as your employer?"

At this, Charon stayed silent but his masked slipped again and his face answered for him. He _hated_ it here.

"Understood," she told him quietly. "Next…Do you have any standing orders to harm people who speak poorly of your employer?"

Charon shook his head 'no' but raised an eyebrow, adding, "Not unless he directly orders me to do so."

"Excellent. Then I need you to know something right from the start." Leaning in towards him and lowering her voice again, "Talking to your boss these last several minutes has made me want to _vomit_. He's a disgusting person and I have no intention of leaving Underworld without you." She felt the anger gathering inside her and she struggled to keep her voice from cracking. Fiona paused to gather herself. "However, if he knew this he'd take advantage of that fact and screw me over on any deal we made. Do you agree?"

Charon's face was blank but again, he slowly nodded in agreement.

"Well, Charon… allow me to fill you in on what I have in mind for your future employment, assuming your boss remains agreeable and this goes forward." She tried her best to smile and reassure him. "I'm new to the wasteland, as you may have heard from a few people by now." She knew Underworld was small and talk traveled fast.

"I'm looking for someone, following a trail of leads, none of which ever seem to come easily or free. I've nearly died a few times." She allowed exhaustion to creep into her voice. "I need backup. Plain and simple. Ahzrukhal says you are some kind of super soldier and that's exactly what I need watching my back. But I'm not expecting you to do all the fighting while I sit back sipping Nuka Cola, either. I need to learn how to fare better in combat myself, so I may need your help in that as well." Fiona took a deep breath. Hearing herself outlining his new duties made her feel like a slave owner already. Was she really thinking about buying a person, correction – a "contract employee"?

"I don't know what the going wage for a hired mercenary is but I will pay you whatever is fair. Whether you spend the money or not is up to you." _There, _she thought as she simmered in disgust with herself,_ now I'm _totally_ in the clear morally… Don't worry slave man who cannot leave or disobey me no matter what. I'll throw some caps at you. It's totally better than freedom. Ugh. _

"Look. I wasn't raised up here and everything is new to me. I'm sure there are dangers out there I haven't even heard of yet and I have to live long enough to find my father and get some answers." She looked down at the table, mindlessly tracing scratches with a fingernail. "Sometimes it feels like I'm chasing a shadow and I don't know how long it'll take to find what I'm looking for. So… you'd be my bodyguard. We'll travel wherever the leads take me and it'll be dangerous." She looked up with a wry expression on her face. "But you won't be stuck in a corner for 50 years either, I can guarantee you that."

Charon continued to stare at her, with no more expression now than when he'd sat down originally. _So much for winning him over_…

"I'm not a bad person," she said, with as much sincerity as she could muster. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Please believe me." Ahzrukhal had stopped busying himself at the bar a few minutes ago and was now watching them, wondering what she could possibly be talking to Charon about for this long. She got up from her seat and nodded at Charon. She thought, for an instant, she saw the corner of his mouth tick upwards.

She sat down at the stool she'd previously occupied and gave a reluctant sigh.

"Well, smoothskin? Is he as advertised? Ready to talk terms?" Ahzrukhal licked his lips more than was necessary to moisten them, and had his eyes glued to her chest.

"Well, he _says_ he's capable and backs up everything you told me." Before Ahzrukhal could happily respond she held her hand up. "But… you didn't tell me he'd been rotting away in a corner… no offense intended… for half a century. _That_ is less than reassuring. I'm sure he's great at bouncing drunks, but I just got my ass handed to me by some Super Mutants and I need more than a bouncer."

Ahzrukhal managed to look offended for a moment, though she doubted it was in regards to defending Charon's abilities and had more to with possibly losing a lucrative transaction. "Trust me, beautiful," he said, laying on the charm, "For Charon, combat is like riding a bike. You never really forget how it's done. It's in his DNA. You won't have a problem with performance."

"Says you." She sighed and looked back at Charon doubtfully. "I'm sure he can handle himself but it's also my life on the line. Traveling with a guy that size would be a deterrent to small time raiders but I'm still not sure about the big stuff."

Ahzrukhal hadn't even started the day looking to make money off of Charon's contract. But now that he had the opportunity, he was not going to let it pass him by. The truth was that he hadn't really needed Charon's unique skills in a long time. All he'd been doing lately was throwing out drunks and handling grunt work. It was nice to know that a skilled killer had his back, but most of the people who had wanted Ahzrukhal dead were dead already. Perhaps keeping Charon around had outlived its usefulness.

"Tell you what Uncle Ahzrukhal will do for you, lovely." He handed her another shot glass of vodka, waving off her caps when she went for them to let her know it was on the house. "Normally, a contract like his costs several thousand caps. I won't tell you how much I paid for it, but I can tell you really need the security." He gave her what he thought was a smile of seduction, but it came across as creepy. "And I'd hate to never see your face again after today. So, for 2,000 caps the contract is yours. It's a low price for a _lifetime_ of protection."

Fiona sat back and raised an eyebrow at Ahzrukhal. He had started the bidding a bit higher than she'd expected. Also, she didn't have that kind of clink. Not that he needed to know. She licked her lips before she spoke to draw attention and mirror his earlier behavior.

"Oh, Ahzrukhal. I have dreams too. I dream about ponies with one head and cold Nuka-Colas on every street corner. But alas, some things are out of reach. Like your 2,000 caps. Try 1,000." Fiona made sure to bat her eyelashes and smirk coyly as she taunted him, to keep the mood light. Luckily, it worked and he gave a genuine laugh.

"Ponies with one head. Now that takes me back!" he was starting get into the spirit of the haggling. "But sadly, 1,000 caps is not nearly enough to pay what Charon is worth. Battle skill aside, he's been with me for 50 years." He patted his heart. "Sentimental value, you see."

_You. Sack. Of. Shit. Sentimental value, my balls. _"Yeah… like an heirloom" she said sarcastically, as she pointed back over her shoulder at the ghoul who had returned to his silent post. Ahzrukhal gave in and snickered a bit.

"Ok, you got me. But it doesn't change the fact that 1,000 caps is too low a price and there's no way I'll accept it. Unless… we could use it as a down payment and uh, _barter_ for the remaining value." He slid his hand across the bar and captured her own before she could react. The rough skin of his hand caressed her palm and his thumb moved to her wrist, as if trying to take her pulse, and moved in slow circles. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to punch him. Instead, she playfully slapped his hand away and wagged her finger._ Think seduction. Think rejection while still being seductive. _

"Please… if we did, you'd owe _me_ caps", she said, striking a playful pose. _I. Am. Going. To. Vomit. _"But, I can make you another kind of bartering arrangement to supplement the caps." She reached into her bag and pulled out all the unsold chems she had saved and spread them on the bar. She had been able to get rid of some of them at Tulip's store but the poor woman had run out of caps to pay her, leaving Fiona with unsold chems to haul around until she found another vendor. "These are easily worth 500 caps. They can be yours today for no overhead. That's a value of 1,500 caps total. I think that's more than fair."

Ahzrukhal tapped his fingers on the bar, looking more serious now. He was either doing some mental calculations or moping at her rejection. Or both.

After a silence that continued just a bit too long, he relented. "Fine. Deal."

The caps and the chems were handed over and Ahzrukhal pulled a sheet of folded paper from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Fiona handled it with care and read the contents. It was as described: a contract for Charon's services until relinquished to a different employer. When described in dry legalese, Charon's slavery seemed very innocuous indeed. She supposed that had been the point for whoever masterminded the original endeavor.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, smoothskin. I'll let you deliver the news to Charon yourself." He continued recounting his caps happily as Fiona gladly stepped away from the bar.

Before she could tell Charon the news, he stepped forward and spoke. "I heard the conversation. You are my new employer."

"Yep!" Fiona said happily, back as her old self. "I'll bet you're glad to get the fuck out of here, huh?"

"Yes." Charon looked flatly towards his former employer. "Please excuse me. There is something I must do."


	4. Chapter 4: Capital Views

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I want to say thanks for the views, reviews and messages. It gives my muse incentive to keep working his magic! Of course, my muse is a snow monkey named Jingles who I taught to use a typewriter. He does good work but needs encouragement. And bananas.

* * *

The first shotgun blast was still ringing in her ears when Charon's second shot put rang out. Charon put away his shotgun with practiced ease and walked casually away from Ahzrukhal's body. As he approached her, Fiona could see his lips moving but her head turned towards the sight of the crumpled form on the floor. As if in a far away tunnel, she heard Charon explain how her purchasing his contract had freed him to take action but her eyes were still glued on Ahzrukhal. _He just walked up and blew the back of his head out as casually as could be. _In her few weeks out of the vault, she had seen much violence and dealt out some of her own. But the one thing she hadn't gotten used to is how sudden and casual the violence could be in the wasteland. _Maybe I never will._

"…And now, for good or ill, I serve you." Fiona snapped out of her reverie just as Charon was finishing his explanation. A crowd had started gathering. No one seemed interested in avenging Ahzrukhal but the onlookers were talking, whispering and excitedly pointing at her, at Charon, and Ahzrukhal's body. _Time to go. _She slid the caps on the counter back into her bag along with a handful of the chems. Sardonically, she thought _Hey, Charon paid for himself already. _Making eye contact with Charon, she nodded towards the door.

"What do you need as far as supplies?" she asked him quietly as they descended the stairs. Nobody had followed them out of the Ninth Circle, but Fiona didn't want to hang around any longer than they had to… just in case. Charon paused thoughtfully.

"I will require ammunition for my shotgun as well as basic sustenance," he replied flatly.

"Anything else? Do you have any personal stuff you want to grab before we leave?"

"I have no personal possessions aside from what I am carrying."

"Seriously? Well, let's change that. We'll be traveling for a while."

Tulip was uncharacteristically speechless when she looked up to see the vault girl return with Charon in tow. Fiona kept the interaction brief, purchasing all the shotgun shells in stock, radiated water, food stuffs, a bedroll and a rucksack similar to her own.

As they turned to leave, Tulip recovered her voice enough utter a single word. "…How?"

Reluctantly, Fiona turned to Tulip, firing her explanation at her at a rapid clip. "I bought Charon's contract. Also, Charon shot Ahzrukhal. I did _not_ order him to, if anyone asks. So, yea. Listen Tulip I'll see you later, we really have to get going." As she finished her explanation, Fiona was already out the door of the shop.

As they left Underworld, Fiona was struck by the sight of the enormous skull sculpture crowning the entryway. Tulip hadn't been lying about the dark afterlife theme. Continuing to the exit of the museum, Fiona wondered what this place looked like before the war. There were only traces of its former grandeur remaining, but she could picture the grand statues, exhibits and strolling tourists. She felt a knot in her throat as she realized those days were long gone. If people were ever able to build things like this museum again, it would be long after she was dead.

Outside, they saw Willow making her rounds and Fiona stopped, motioning for Charon to do so as well. She owed Willow her thanks. She also realized, with some guilt, that she'd been in such a hurry to leave Underworld that she had not said good bye to Carol. _I'll make it right the next time I see her. _Willow approached her as she rounded the frame of the metro entrance. When Willow recognized the large, hulking shape behind Fiona, she cocked her head quizzically.

"Up an moving again, turtle girl?" she said, looking curiously at Charon who was standing a few feet behind his new employer.

"Yes, thanks to you I hear." Fiona said, smiling as she fished around in her pack for the carton of cigarettes she'd purchased earlier that morning, and handed it to Willow. "A thank you gift. Tulip said this was probably the most practical gift I could get for you. Hope she was right."

Willow gratefully accepted the carton with a grin. She'd resorted to recycling her old butts after running out in the middle of her shift. "Thanks, smoothskin. Much appreciated." She pulled out a pack of smokes from the carton and wasted no time in lighting one. Speaking with her lips pursed around the smooth filter of her fresh cigarette, she added "Made a friend I see" She motioned in Charon's direction.

"You can never have too many. Besides, you can't always be around to drag me to safety, right?" Willow gave a short grunt and nodded in agreement. Fiona continued "There was also a little um…drama inside earlier but, hopefully we'll be allowed back once things cool down." She scratched the back of her neck nervously, hoping the gruesome murder inside wouldn't sour the Underworld residents on her. "Anyway, I've got a satellite dish to repair and some tin soldiers to chew out. I'll see you again, Willow."

"Ah, so that's what that thing is, all wrapped up. A dish. Makes sense now. Take care of yourself, turtle girl."

"It's Fiona, by the way." She said grinning, not really minding the nickname.

"Yea… that's what I said." Willow replied with a wink.

As they passed, Charon trailing a few feet behind his new employer, Willow's arm shot out in front of Charon. They did not exchange words but she gave him an inquisitive look that asked _So did you finally kill that bastard? _Charon's face shifted slightly in his best approximation of a smug look. _Fuck yeah, I did._ Willow coughed out a laugh and she nodded once, retracting her arm. She and Charon weren't ever friends, but they had fought together on the rare occasions the city needed defending. This made her one of the few Underworld residents that had ever had a positive interaction with him. She had always suspected that Charon hated that slimy trickster Ahzrukhal more than anyone and thought he'd kill him the first chance he got. _Good for you,_ she thought as Charon continued to follow Fiona towards the Washington monument.

* * *

Revenge had been sweet. Too bad it was over so quickly.

For years, Charon's only satisfaction had come from picturing Ahzrukhal's face on the body of every innocent person he'd been forced to harm or murder under orders. Charon was a killer. It's what he was created to do. However, it had been a very long time since he'd killed anyone who had really deserved to die. That shouldn't eat away at him, but it did. Every day.

His contract had bound him to serve and protect his employer. And Ahzrukhal had needed lots of protection in the early years of Charon's employment. Mostly, he needed protection from people he'd screwed over in one way or another. Ahzrukhal wasn't lying when he'd bragged that Charon was the best investment he'd ever made. With Charon's help, Ahzrukhal survived to go on to bigger and badder things.

He'd never had an employer who'd been kind or doting but under Ahzrukhal's employ, for the first time he began to feel… conflicted. _Stop it. _His fist clenched and Charon forced himself to end the train of thought before it went to his darkest memory. Reliving the past never changed it. And hopefully, that time in his life was over.

He wasn't sure what to think about the strange smoothskin who'd just purchased his contract. However, he did have time to study her when she had spoken to him in the bar, quietly trying to reassure him that she was a good person. She hadn't needed to spell it out. He already believed her.

He wouldn't have been allowed to speak it, but if anyone had asked Charon this morning about his _future,_ he would have thought "I'm going to die right here in this corner someday. And hopefully sooner rather than later." Now… he was willing to give tomorrow a chance.

* * *

Fiona approached the Washington Monument without slowing down as the soldiers shouted for her to halt and identify herself. She had a deep frown on her face and a haughty gait as she made a bee-line for the Brotherhood of Steel detachment. Charon couldn't help but wonder if his new employer was really _that_ naive about dealing with wasteland soldiers or just had a death wish. He caught up to her with a few strides of his long legs and placed a hand on he shoulder. Usually, he was not allowed to touch his employer unless given express permission or if it was necessary for their protection. From what little he did know of his new boss, she wasn't likely to punish him for the breech of protocol (he hoped) and he needed to get her attention immediately.

Fiona stopped abruptly when she felt the hand on her shoulder. She'd been so focused on being angry at the assholes who'd left her to die that she had pulled ahead of Charon. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to walk ahead like that," she apologized. As he removed his hand slowly, she was surprised by the sheer size of the appendage as she tracked it's path from her shoulder back to his side.

Charon was caught off-guard by the apology. He could keep up with her easily but had been keeping some distance out of deference to her authority. His momentary confusion was replaced with concern as he tried to figure out how to best advise her while not speaking out of place. She _had_ asked for him to teach her how to survive the wastelands. Therefore, "avoiding getting your head blown off because you ignored the warnings of nervous young men in power armor" would be lesson one.

"For your own protection…mistress" he stumbled over the title for a moment. Since he'd never had a female employer before, he decided to err on the side of formality. "I would advise you to heed their commands. They left you to die once before and their commander would not hesitate to order them to expedite the process this time."

Fiona was taken aback when Charon called her _mistress_. She had never been addressed with any kind of formal title, much less a title she had never heard used outside of certain age-restricted holotapes. She decided she'd bring up the issue of what to call each other later, however.

"They'd better not shoot me!" she said loudly enough for the Brotherhood to hear her. "Those buttholes left me to just rot when I was…" she inhaled deeply and yelled in their direction "DELIVERING THEIR FUCKING SATELLITE DISH!" Fiona sighed and added softly "Dicks."

A man wearing darker power armor than the rest of the group stepped forward and said something to the men. Two of them stepped away from the rest and followed him towards Fiona and Charon, guns at the ready. Sensing the obvious threat, Charon stepped forward, placing his massive frame between the men and her.

The man in front, clearly the one in charge, stopped close in front of Charon. Though he was just inches away, he pointedly looked over the ghoul's shoulder straight at Fiona, as if he didn't notice the 7-foot tall ghoul towering over him.

"Identify yourself, civilian." The tinny sound of his voice coming over the voicemitter box still managed to drip with arrogance.

Fiona stepped around Charon and met the commander's gaze… or where she assumed his gaze would be through the helmet. "My name is Fiona Lin. You _should_ have been expecting me yesterday. I'm here to repair the GNR dish." Now that she was looking at the imposing group of armor-clad soldiers with powered weapons up close, she thought better of most of the caustic comments she'd had planned.

"We were not told to expect anyone. If Three Dog has you running errands, those errands are for _him_, not for the Brotherhood," he said dismissively. He leaned forward slightly and there was now an edge to his voice. "Now tell me again why you are here and why we should grant you access to the monument." The Brotherhood commander stood perfectly still and Fiona could feel the weight of his gaze through the eye slits of his helmet.

"I was told by Three Dog that the dish broadcasting his signal was in need of repair after some Super Mutants used it for _target practice._ I risked my life inside the Museum of Technology to get the replacement dish, dodging Super Mutants the whole way in and out, and was given the passcode to the security terminal." She handed him the note from Three Dog, which contained a memo from Paladin Berrings about the change of passwords at the monument.

"Damn DJ. Handing out sensitive Brotherhood information to civilians. Now we'll have to change it a third time to prevent security breaches in the future," he grumbled.

"You know, if one of your men could have done this for him, it wouldn't have been necessary to call in a _civilian._" Fiona felt a tiny bit of her nerve return now that it was clear she and Charon weren't going to be shot. "But as it is, I was recruited for this and I am here to see it through."

There was a long pause as the commander stared at the paper and he looked as if he were on the verge of crumpling up the note in his hand. Finally he relented. "Fine, our men are too busy to play tech support for an idealistic loud mouth anyway. Go do what you came here to do, but don't take too long. This is not _public_ property," he spat.

Fiona considered contradicting him, but decided against it. She and Charon continued towards the gate and the commander walked around the side of the makeshift concrete barrier surrounding the base of the monument, likely a patrol route. The two soldiers who had escorted him returned to their posts by the gate. As Fiona entered the security password and the gates opened, one of the soldiers reached out to stop her.

"What now? He already said we could go ahead." Her voice was heavy with exhaustion. It wasn't even 10am yet and she'd already bought an "employee", seen a man murdered and had to argue for the right to complete the dangerous errand she never wanted to undertake in the first place.

"I just wanted to apologize for Paladin Eames, ma'am. He's uh… well, the short version is that he's burned out." The apologetic soldier somehow managed to look contrite in the heavy armor. "The rest of us wanted to bring you in for medical attention yesterday, if it means anything."

It did make Fiona feel a bit better. At least it was just one dick commander that had left her to die instead of the entire squad. Having grown up in the Vault, reciting scripted praise for The Overseer, she could understand what it was like to have to obey someone you really wanted to punch in the balls. "Apology accepted… um…"

"Knight Hamilton, ma'am." The way he emphasized his title, Fiona would've bet anything that he'd just been promoted to… Knight. _Knight? Paladin? Really? What is this, Camelot? I swear if someone has a gun named Excalibur I'm going to lose it. _

She smiled warmly despite her sarcastic inner monologue. "Well, _Knight _Hamilton, my friend and I have a dish to install. But it was good to meet you."

"Likewise, Ms. Lin. And you be safe up there."

Polite as Hamilton seemed, she couldn't help noticing that he pointedly ignored Charon's presence, much like his commander had done. _Wow, Gob wasn't lying about ghoul prejudice. _

As the two ascended in the miraculously still functioning elevator, Fiona got a panoramic view of the Capital for the first time. It was ruined. Destroyed. It was easy to see how beautiful it all had been. _ How could our ancestors have been so foolish? How could they have let this happen?_ But her thoughts were interrupted by their arrival at the top floor.

They walked around the level, the winds whistling through the exposed structure. They quickly found the transmission control station and next to it, an opening through which they could glimpse the broken dish which was attached to a rusted metal frame. Charon looked on with alarm as Fiona gingerly leaned out of the opening to inspect the dish. _Finally, _Fiona thought. _Something that looks like it might be easier than I thought it would be. _It would be a quick job, provided she didn't fall to her death. If they hurried, they might even make it back to GNR before nightfall to get the next clue in her "Find the Daddy-Wasteland Scavenger Hunt!"

"Ok, Charon. Wait here. It should be pretty simple to detach the original dish if I can balance on that service ladder. Once I get it loose, I'll need you hand me the new dish _very_ carefully, ok?"

Charon was surprised. Correction: shocked. He had fully expected to be the one climbing the dangerous ladder over 500 feet above solid ground. _Maybe I didn't hear correctly. _"You intend to perform the task yourself, rather than requesting that I replace the dish? It is my duty to protect you for good or ill."

"Well… yes. I mean, I was going to do it by myself originally if I'd gotten up here yesterday. And anyway, the ladder has two centuries of rust and wear on it. I'm a little iffy about staying on it too long myself, and I'm a waif compared to you. Now give me a boost and get me up there." It all seemed highly irregular to Charon. However, she had now given him an order and Charon obeyed, linking his hands together and boosting her vertically by her feet.

The repair went far smoother than either of them imagined. A new dish, some reconnected wiring, and a few heavy duty screws later and they were greeted by Three Dog's booming voice, shouting out thanks to the Vault Kid and requesting she come meet with him for her reward.

As Fiona and Charon entered the elevator for the trip down, she had time to think. _Ha!_ Fiona thought. _Fight the good fight, you hypocrite. I risk my life to up your… wasteland ratings… and get rewarded with a _possible_ lead on where my dad went. The only person in the wasteland who's talking about making things better, and that's all he's doing. Talking about it_. As she left the monument, Knight Hamilton saw her emerge with Charon behind her. After he'd glanced around to confirm Paladin Eames wasn't watching, he gave her a thumbs up and waved. Fiona reciprocated the gesture, if only to be polite.

They picked through the ruins, carefully making their way around the uneven ground on their way to the Metro entrance. "Alrighty, Charon," she announced, as they climbed down the stairs and into the subterranean mazes. "To GNR we go. Think you remember enough about wasteland survival to keep me from getting dead?" She said, much more lightheartedly than she felt. Even though she'd spent nearly her entire life underground, Fiona _hated_ the metros.

"I will protect you. For good or ill."

_How did I know he was going to say that… _


	5. Chapter 5: Talking Is Overrated

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A special thanks to my husband for helping with the the combat scene. His expertise as a Special Forces soldier was invaluable in making the details realistic and accurate. Thanks, babe!

* * *

As Fiona and Charon descended the stairs into the Metro, the temperature dropped quickly. As they got lower, the air took on a moist, dank odor and a slight chill penetrated the layers of clothing and armor they wore. The daylight faded away and was replaced by the dull gleam of emergency glow panels. The feeble lighting etched shadows around everything and lent a sinister air to even the most innocuous of objects.

Charon felt his skin tighten and his breathing start to speed up. _Boy it has been awhile. _He held his breath for a beat, exhaled slowly and felt calm returning and the tension sharpening into heightened awareness. When they reached the landing, Charon suddenly stopped short.

"What's wrong?" asked Fiona. Charon paused thoughtfully for a few seconds before he answered.

"Mistress… we are about to head into danger. Normally, I would clear the path on my own..."

"But Charon - I already told you I wouldn't be sitting back while you did all the work," Fiona said.

"Precisely. You requested assistance in combat training. So with your permission, I would like to start now." Charon looked at her expectantly.

Fiona's eyes widened and she nodded excitedly. "Yes! By all means let's start now. And Charon… while you're teaching me how to stay alive, you can drop the titles. Just call me Fiona… or smoothskin, or even turtle girl if you like. Just not _mistress _anymore, please." As she said the word "mistress" again, her mind flashed to an image of black corsets and leather whips. She blushed furiously, thankful of the relative darkness of the Metro.

"As you wish, mi-… Fiona." Even without the title, there was no mistaking the respectful tone when he spoke to her.

"And don't worry about hurting my feelings if I'm about to do something stupid. _Teach me what I need to know._"

"As you wish. Then consider this lesson one: when we are in a danger area, no talking unless absolutely necessary" he said, smiling inwardly. This was the closest he had come to giving an order in almost 200 years.

Fiona frowned slightly. "But how are we going to communicate? If we can't talk, you can't tell me stuff!"

Charon replied in a low voice. "And if we do have to talk, we do it quietly so as not to attract attention."

She blushed again. "Sorry," she said, in a much quieter voice.

"When on the move, we can communicate by hand and arm signals. It's just the two of us, so right now we can keep things simple. I will be up front, so mostly I'll be the one signaling you." Charon made a fist with his left hand and he raised the arm in an "L" shape. "That means stop." His hand moved down to waist level, palm down. "This means get down."

Fiona nodded. _Not too hard so far._

He formed his index and middle finger into a "V" and pointed them back towards his own eyes. "If I want you to look at something or guard something," he said, finishing by pointing with his finger into the distance, "I'll do this".

She looked at him expectantly and when he did not continue, she asked, "That's it?"

"There is much more. But this will be enough to build on. Now let us move. Whichever direction I'm looking as we walk, you look the opposite." Without pausing, he moved out silently. Fiona quickly moved to catch up but stopped when she saw him gesturing. _Keep some distance between us. _She backed up until Charon nodded and then matched his pace.

As they moved silently through the tense stillness of the Metro, sweat began to bead on her forehead despite the chill. With their slow, careful pace, her eyes adjusted easily to the dim lighting and she began to make out distinct shapes and details where before there were only dark blobs. Her hearing grew more acute and she began to hear environmental noises she had not noticed before; creaking metal, patter of rodents, dripping water.

Just ahead, she could see Charon, moving with a lightness surprising for someone of his size. His head seemed to swivel constantly, like someone looking for a face in a crowded room. Every once in awhile, he would stop suddenly as if he just had a terrible thought. With his fist raised in the "halt" position and his head cocked, he would stay perfectly still. When satisfied, he continued moving again. The first time Charon called for one of these halts, it wasn't until he started moving again that Fiona realized she had been holding her breath. _Note to self. Remember to breathe._

Fiona soon lost track of time until it seemed like they had been moving for hours. Charon called for another halt and she dropped to one knee, scanning automatically. When she felt him tap her shoulder, Fiona got up to start moving forward again when he stopped her. He cupped his ear and pointed into the distance. When she concentrated, she heard a sound that sent a sudden chill down her spine: the unmistakable panting of ferals.

They both dropped to one knee, huddling close so they could whisper. "Ferals. Four, maybe more," said Charon. "This tunnel is the only way to the Chevy Chase exit, according to the map you showed me. The parallel tunnel is not an option as it's caved in."

"So the only way is through them." She said. Unbidden, thoughts of her last encounter with the ferals ran through her mind and she shuddered involuntarily.

Charon nodded wordlessly. "Considering the numbers, we must set up an ambush where we have surprise, speed and violence of action to help tip the odds". Fiona heard his words and nodded but her mind was in another Metro tunnel three days ago, a jammed assault rifle falling from her hands as she reached desperately for an SMG.

She was brought back to the present by the reassuring feel of Charon's hands on her shoulders. She looked up and sawCharon's face, unruffled as ever. Fiona felt her panic drain away, replaced with a sense of calm. _If he's not afraid, I won't be either._

"We will lure them and attack them at a time, place and manner of our choosing. You can do this." She nodded, the beginnings of a smile appearing on her face.

They were about two hundred meters away from the group of ferals when he noticed a wide maintenance access tunnel. At this distance, the wet panting of the ferals was louder and more pronounced. Charon noted piles of concrete blocks at the opening of the access tunnel. _Perfect. Just about the right height to hunker down behind._ "This will be the killzone of the ambush here." He said softly, pointing to the tunnel area in front of the maintenance tunnel. "We'll take cover behind the concrete blocks. You'll man the SMG, I'll have my shotgun. I'll make some noise to draw their attention." He picked up a piece of corrugated metal, walked to the middle of the main tunnel and placed it gently on the ground. He walked back to Fiona. "When they get here," he said, pointing to the sheet metal, "I'll start blasting. When you hear me go, you spray everything you see." He stopped and looked at her, head cocked. "Do you have any explosives… mines, grenades or anything like that?"

"Well, I do have a frag mine and some grenades in my pack…" said Fiona, taking her pack off of her shoulders.

"Perfect. I'll need those." He took the grenades and the mine from her outstretched hands and placed the grenades on the concrete blocks they had earmarked for cover. He walked out to where he had dropped the sheet metal and crouched, gingerly setting the mine in place and arming it with a delicacy that looked vaguely comical considering his large frame.

He pointed to her to get set in place and she kneeled, pulling the SMG out of her holster, and propped it on top of her cover. She gripped it in both hands, and she began to breath deeply to relax herself. Charon walked back to where she was, pausing only to pick up an empty bottle of Nuka-Cola. When he reached their position, he pulled out a spare drum for his combat shotgun and placed it within easy reach on the concrete block.

He turned his head towards her. "Ready?" She nodded firmly, more confidently than she felt. He shifted the empty bottle of Nuka-Cola in his hand and threw it in a lazy overhand like a grenade into the darkness of the main tunnel.

The sound of the bottle shattering seemed ear-splittingly loud to Fiona when compared to the previous silence. The panting abruptly stopped and there was a terrible silence. Suddenly, the quiet was broken with a horrifying screech as all the ferals turned as one towards where the bottle had shattered and began running. The pat-pat sound of their bare feet echoed off the tunnel walls along with their screeches as the ferals rushed ever closer to where Fiona and Charon waited.

Fiona felt tension grip her chest in a tight fist as the clattering of the ghouls came closer and closer. Her hands tightened around the SMG and the sound of the ghouls began to be drowned out by the rushing of the blood in her ears. Her vision narrowed to a tunnel, the scene in front of her appearing as though she was looking through a telescope. The ghouls sounded very close now. The fist around her chest clenched tight and her breath caught in her throat.

Fiona glimpsed quick-moving shapes in the corner of her eye and suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light. A split second later, the sound of thunder surrounded her and an invisible wave of force hit her and passed through her. As she blinked her eyes to clear them, there was a ringing in her ears and she could hear a loud barking that sounded strangely muted. She turned look at Charon and she realized that the barking noise was his combat shotgun firing away in a steady rhythm. Charon turned to her and she could see his lips moving silently before he resumed firing. He turned towards her again and she shook her head, straining to hear him.

"….NOW! FIRE NOW!" a cacophony of sounds suddenly rushed at her as her hearing cleared. Her head snapped forward and she squeezed her trigger, spraying bullets into the mass of moving shapes in front of her. She felt the SMG buck in her hands as she shifted her barrel from target to target. She could now clearly hear the roar of Charon's combat shotgun as he methodically swept the killzone.

Then silence.

She heard someone's heavy, labored breathing and wondered who it was before she realized it was her. She glanced down at her weapon and she was surprised to find that the SMG was dry, its bolt locked to the rear. On the top of the concrete block she had used for cover, there were two empty magazines that she had no memory of changing. She looked for Charon but he was already walking towards the killzone. Feral bodies were splayed here and there, some of them still twitching as if their limbs had not yet realized that they were dead.

She put the SMG back into her holster and reached for the magazines on the concrete block. Her trembling hands made what would have normally been a routine task into a struggle. She was still trying to place the magazines into their pouches when the sound of a shotgun blast made her jump with surprise. She turned to see Charon shoot again into the fallen. He was methodically working his way through the bodies, looking for any remaining signs of life. When he reached the end of the killzone, he turned to look at her and their eyes met. He looked strangely at peace.

* * *

Fiona leaned her head against the wall, fingers drumming nervously on her SMG holster.

"It would be wise for you to eat something," Charon stated. "As well as drink some water. You have not done either today." After gathering their belongings from the scene, Charon suggested they find a place to hole up and rest. Fiona suspected that he offered this solely for her benefit, as he did not seem tired at all. They were now in a utility room on the upper level of the metro close to the exit, the door locked from the inside. The room was empty except for a few shelves stocked with random items and a case for a fire hose against the far wall. Fiona leaned against the back of the locked door and slowly slid to the floor. Charon stayed standing against the back wall.

She realized he was right, but Fiona didn't feel hungry. However, she pulled out a bottle of purified water and gulped it down faster than she'd thought possible. Fiona put her head back against the cool metal of the door but could not relax. Charon was still standing there, guarding her against… well, nothing at the moment. Silence didn't usually bother her but she felt the nervous energy welling up inside her until the quiet felt unbearable.

"I hate the damn Metros" she said, killing the quiet moment. "It's like… have you ever seen any pre-war horror movies? Like the ones where everything is overly dramatic and dark and there are scary noises _everywhere_ and things jump out at the star, but only sometimes it turns out to be nothing, it was just there to make you all jumpy and nervous for them… it's like that down here only _real._"

Charon said nothing, but nodded once. She got the impression that he wasn't nodding in agreement but out of politeness.

"I mean, I grew up in tunnels. I don't mind underground tunnels, Charon. But our tunnels had _lights_ and _people_ and food and… crazy Overseers. And ladies that gave me depressing suicidal poetry as gifts for my tenth birthday. And teenagers being drugged with anti-anxiety meds to deal with… ya know… living in an enormous metal hole. Ok, so both are kinda bad. I guess I'm just saying that I hate being underground now."

Charon gave another nod.

"I am rambling. WOW, am I ever rambling. Geez, what's wrong with me?"

"It is the adrenaline," Charon spoke at last. "You are still keyed up from the fight. It will subside."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess you're kinda past getting the jitters. That was scary… and awesome, by the way. I mean, it was scary but also cool that it worked out. I can't wait until I get better at it. And can manage to not shake and stuff…"

"It will take time." Charon was silent for another moment. "You should eat."

"Yea you said that already. I'm not really hungry for some reason."

"Also from the adrenaline. You will be hungry once it wears off."

She took his word for it and pulled a box of Dandy Boy Apples from her pack. As if he'd been waiting for her cue, Charon brought out a can of Pork N' Beans from his own sack and popped the lid. When she took one bite, it suddenly felt like the bottom had dropped out of her stomach and she began eating in earnest.

"Well, so tell me," Fiona said in between mouthfuls. "Where'd you learn all that stuff?"

"What stuff are you referring to?"

"The… battle stuff. I know you've been at this a long time but where'd you learn it originally? The hand signals…how to move in the dark…ambushing… all that soldier stuff." Fiona was pretty sure he'd had a military background, especially given his age. He may have even fought in the Great War.

Charon did not like to talk about himself. However, his employer had asked a direct question. "I was first trained in the U.S. Military… back when it existed. I have used those skills as a foundation for combat and protection services ever since." Truthfully, there was _a lot more_ to the story, but that was enough to answer her question for now.

"Wow. 200 years ago." Fiona's mind boggled. "The things you must have seen…" At this, Charon's eyes looked downcast and she immediately regretted what she said. _I guess that's enough time to see some horrible stuff, too._ There was an awkward silence and Fiona decided to concentrate on keeping her mouth filled with apples.

Since she had made a statement instead of asking a question, Charon was infinitely relieved that he was not compelled by duty to answer or elaborate. There were some things he simply wanted to forget.

* * *

The sun was setting as the two travelers exited Chevy Chase Station. Fiona felt relieved to be free from the metro tunnels as she and Charon ascended the stairs into the ruins. The darkness and echoing corridors of the tunnels now behind her, she breathed deeply of the warm surface air. She looked around to get her bearings as they reached the top of the metro stairs, taking in the broken landscape around them. Fiona knew she may never be as rough and tumble as other wastelanders, but now that she had Charon at her side, she was confident her wasteland adventures would be a bit safer.

Then the courtyard exploded in gunfire.

"TALON COMPANY!"

_I had to jinx myself by thinking positive…_


	6. Chapter 6: Three Dog Throwdown

Author's Note: Apologies for the weird formatting and spacing issues in some of the chapters. I'm using a word processor designed for authors and I **love** it. BUT, to get my stories on to FF I have to export the documents as .docx files and then upload them to FF as story files. Sometimes in the process of being converted through 2 different formats something weird happens and I get extra or deleted spaces, or even some small chunks of text that go missing. I'm reading over the docs on the site now trying to catch stuff. But if you see anything weird format or typo-wise please send me a PM. Thanks :)

* * *

Fiona felt herself dragged roughly behind a chunk of broken concrete as she heard a whoosh followed by an explosion where they had just been standing. She felt the wallop of the shockwave from the near-miss as they were both thrown to the ground. Charon's shotgun was already in his arms as he got up to a kneeling position and darted a glance around the barrier to check the location of the attackers. His head snapped back just in time as a flurry of shots struck the ground where his head had been. _Gotcha. Don't move, fellas. This won't take long._

"Three of them." Charon's voice was all business.

_Where did those guys come from_? Fiona thought, gripping her SMG tightly at her side.

"Stay here," he ordered. With surprising quickness, Charon popped the barrel of his shotgun over the top of the concrete barrier and fired. The hammering sound of one of the attacker's assault rifles stopped immediately and she heard the unmistakable clatter of a weapon dropped onto concrete. Almost in the same motion, Charon smoothly dropped back behind cover.

As he paused and waited for his next shot, Fiona had a chance to study his face. He had the same relaxed look he had after the ambush but this time, there was a gleam in his eye. _If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was enjoying this._

The enemy's fire, while still relentless, had become a little more cautious and Charon took a moment to consider his options. The two remaining shooters sounded like they were very close together. _One assault rifle… probably providing support to a guy with a heavy weapon. Maybe a missile launcher. _Just then, he heard the hollow metallic thump of a missile slamming home into a launcher. _Sometimes, I just hate being right. _He reached into his leather armor for one of the grenades Fiona had handed him. _On the bright side, they are right next to each other._

He pulled the pin on the grenade and held his fist tightly, keeping the spoon down. He shifted his position slightly until he was in a different spot then when he had first popped up to fire. Charon waited for a slight pause in the fire and popped up, his arm cocked back. As he released the grenade, he could see both of the remaining attackers and for an instant, all three sets of eyes watched the track of the dull grey sphere as it flew through the air. Even at a distance, he saw their eyes grow comically wide as they jumped frantically from their firing point.

Fiona heard two precise shotgun blasts, followed by a dull crump as the grenade exploded.

The entire confrontation had taken less than thirty seconds.

Charon carefully scanned the area, looking for any further signs of danger. "All clear," he said, finally.

"Whoa." It was all Fiona could say for the moment. _Note to self: Fight on our terms and don't rush in. But apparently if we're the ones getting ambushed it's not a fucking problem either. _

Charon was up and searching the bodies now, still wearily scanning the distance at the same time. Fiona was no stranger to scavenging the pockets of fallen attackers so she jumped up to help.

"Charon!" She excitedly called to him as she ran to meet him. "You were amazing. See. This is why I need _you_ to train me…" she trailed off as Charon rose, staring at a crumpled piece of paper with a look of concern. He lifted his gaze to her.

"Were you aware of this?" he asked, handing her the note.

Fiona read the document, eyes widening.

_Find Fiona and show her how we treat people that fail to live up to Mr. Tenpenny's expectations. Do not fail me. You know what will happen if you arouse my displeasure._

_-B_

"That son of a bitch. Burke. 'B' has got to be Burke." Fiona had thought that her little charade might come back to bite her, but more in the form of a woeful heart-broken letter. Not like this.

"Who is Burke and why has he hired Talon Company to kill you?" Charon said, sounding perplexed and concerned. When Fiona did not immediately answer him, he added "These mercenaries are some of the most ruthless in the wasteland. This… might be a problem."

"It's a long story Charon…" _and an embarrassing one… _

"If you do not wish to tell me, that is your right. But if I knew why they were after you I might be able to better defend you or find some way to resolve this."

Fiona sighed. "Don't judge me, ok?" Charon stared flatly. "OK. So, you've heard about the kid that disarmed the Megaton bomb?" He nodded. "Well, that was me. But there was more to the story that Three Dog doesn't know." _And won't know._ "When I first started tinkering around the bomb I was approached by a man. He had been hired to 'contract' someone to detonate it. Some guy named Tenpenny wanted the town gone. Something to do with real estate values, if you can believe it."

Charon was now paying close attention. He knew the name Tenpenny only from rumors and gossip, but what he did know was that the man had a ruthless reputation for getting his way in the wasteland.

"Well, obviously I had no intention of doing it but I was afraid that he would just hire someone else… and… I seduced him a little. _Just_ a little. Nothing scandalous. And he agreed to leave the town alone!"

When Fiona did not continue, Charon had to ask. "And why is there a bounty on your head?"

"Well…" she knew there was no way not to sound like a tramp at this point. "Apparently Burke took the little seduction routine more seriously than I thought. I got a creepy love letter from him a a few weeks later when I was already practicing for the big disarm. He said he was going to 'send for me soon' and I freaked out. It sounded like he was planning something. I was afraid of waiting much longer so I disarmed the bomb the instant I was confident enough. I'm guessing he listens to GNR and figured out he got played." She shook her head, reading the extermination contract again. "But sending hit men? Wow… I guess he doesn't take rejection well."

Charon was quiet for a moment as he considered the ramifications of this new development. He would certainly not be bored if his new employer's penchant for attracting trouble continued. Suddenly, he realized Fiona was looking at him, waiting for some sort of response. "Very well," he said, nodding. "Now we know and can be prepared."

Fiona was still terrified by her predicament but smiled anyway. "That's the spirit, Charon. See the silver lining! And now that we know I have hit men after me, maybe we can tell Three Dog to shut his mouth and not advertise where I'm going!" She spun on her heels and headed in the direction of GNR with a few choice words in mind for her most and least favorite wasteland DJ.

* * *

In GNR Plaza, things were far more subdued than the last time she'd visited. Brotherhood soldiers were patrolling, alert but calm. The corpses of the Super Mutants had been removed, darkly stained earth and broken concrete the only evidence of their presence a few days ago. No one was shooting. It was a good sign.

As they climbed the stairs to the entrance of the GNR building, Fiona spotted Paladin Vargas from the Lyon's Pride. When she had first found her way into the Chevy Chase area of the ruins a few days ago, she'd stumbled into a battle between the Brotherhood of Steel's elite infantry team and a group of Super Mutants. The battle ended dramatically with the slaying of a Super Mutant Behemoth that had almost ended _her_ with a swing of a fire hydrant it had fashioned as a club. The Pride had been pretty decent to her after that, furthering her outrage at the treatment she'd received at the hand of the Brotherhood Paladin in the Mall.

Vargas waved as she approached and smiled warmly at her. "Good job, kid! We all heard Three Dog 'bow wow wow-ing' your praises this morning," Vargas joked.

"Thanks." Fiona smiled. It was good to get just a tiny bit of appreciation after what she had went through for GNR and that dish. "The dish wasn't that hard to replace. It was getting up there that took forever."

"Oh? What happened?" Vargas asked, genuine concern on his face.

Fiona considered her answer before she spoke. Between the moments of terror, Fiona had time to think on the trek in the metros and had decided _not_ to let Eames get away with his bullshit. If he was burned out so badly, he was going to be a bad influence on his men at best, and a liability to their safety at worst. Also, he was a dick.

"Yesterday, when I was delivering the dish to the monument, I collapsed about 100 yards from the Brotherhood outpost at the entrance. Apparently, their commander told the men to leave me there. _Luckily_, the sentry at the ghoul city saw me, dragged me to safety and got me to a doctor." Fiona kept her tone as matter-of-fact as possible. "I recovered and went back this morning to replace the dish. Even after I explained what I was there to do, he still didn't want to let me in." She then dropped her matter-of-fact tone, letting annoyance creep into her voice. "Isn't his whole job there to protect that station transmitter? Not try to keep it broken?"

Vargas's face darkened and he let out an angry sigh. "Eames. God damn… sonofa… it's not the first time he…" Vargas composed himself. "I'm glad you're ok, kid. And that the… Ghoul sentry got you some help." His eyes flickered towards Charon.

"Oh!" Fiona chirped. "This is Charon. He's not the sentry who saved me but he… worked security at Underworld until I hired him. So, you'll be seeing him around with me, now."

A concerned look crossed Vargas's face but he politely nodded to Charon and said "Well be careful traveling with _her_. She attracts Behemoths." He winked playfully at Fiona.

"I do NOT!" Fiona laughed. "Your loud firefights attract Behemoths and I get stuck in the middle." It was like a breath of fresh air, being able to joke around after the day she'd had.

"Well go on in." Vargas waved them inside. "Three Dog is waiting and I'm sure you could use a beer and nap after walking all day."

"You have no idea." She hadn't felt especially tired up to then, but at the mention of beer and a chance to sleep, her body suddenly wanted to collapse. However, she still had things to see to before that happened. "Is Sarah… um, Sentinel Lyons, inside?" Fiona thought that if she did end up assaulting Three Dog like she was fantasizing about, Lyons would be more sympathetic to her cause than the other Brotherhood soldiers.

"No, she was called back to the Citadel by Elder Lyons. But I'll tell her hi for you and I'll let her know that you were successful." Vargas smiled.

Fiona and Charon made their way through the menagerie of Brotherhood soldiers in the old building's lobby and to the upper levels where Three Dog worked his radio magic.

They could hear the voice of the DJ echoing over the station speakers as they walked up the stairs. '_Are ya' hungry for some 200 year old Salisbury Steak? Or are ya' hungry for some news? I'm bettin' you're hungry for some news.'_ So, they were surprised when they rounded a corner and saw him sitting casually on a sofa, reading a pre-war book.

_I _knew_ he pre-recorded,_ Fiona thought smugly as if exposing some secret the DJ had wished to keep from the world. "Three Dog!" Fiona's voice cut through the air like a knife.

The DJ's head snapped up, his mouth smiling wide once he saw the vault girl. "Kid! Ya' did it! Ole' Three Dog owes you a big one!" He put his book down and rose, arms outstretched in a dramatic gesture. Fiona held her ground a few feet away and stared daggers into his eyes. After a long, awkward moment the DJ lowered his arms.

"Ok, then. Warm welcomes are out? I get it. You've had a rough day and you want to know what Three Dog knows. And I _shall_ deliver. I am a man of my word."

The DJ walked over to a kitchen area and retrieved 3 beers from the fridge. He handed one to Fiona and another to Charon, beckoning them to sit at the table with him. Though angry, Fiona was struck by Three Dog's gesture of hospitality towards her new companion. Up till now, no one had acknowledged Charon's presence unless somehow prompted to do so, much less offered him any sort of kindness.

"You picked up a mercenary in Underworld?" Three Dog asked casually as he reclined in the kitchen chair with his beer.

Fiona followed suit, sitting at the table across from him, Charon waiting to sit until she nodded to him.

"Yea, I did. This is Charon. Turns out the Mall is pretty dangerous. A girl could get _killed_ out there, if she's not careful," Fiona said sarcastically.

Three Dog raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Ok, kid. I get it. I took advantage of your situation. I _am_ sorry. But the good fight needed to continue and people don't do things out of the goodness of their hearts anymore. But now that GNR has a brand new dish, the word can spread once again!" Three Dog exclaimed dramatically.

Before he could continue on with what Fiona could tell was going to be a very long and well-rehearsed speech, she interrupted him. "Where's my dad?"

Three Dog paused, looking hurt at her lack of interest in his "good fight" campaign speech.

"Where. Is. My. Dad." She said, through clenched teeth.

Now the DJ's face definitely looked hurt. Almost. "Ok. Geez kid, I wasn't gonna hold out on you. Just wanted to explain… anyway. Your dad came to me because he said it had been awhile since he'd been in town and wanted to know what was what in the wasteland. He figured I'd be the one to know things. And he was right." Sensing that Fiona was losing patience, he got to the point. "Rivet City. He was headed to Rivet City to look for an old colleague of his, Dr. Li. He said they worked together on a project back in the day and he'd come back to DC to finish what he started. So… that's where you'll find him." He took a swig of beer and paused. "Probably."

Fiona sighed with relief. Not only did she finally have the information she wanted, but she'd been headed to Rivet City anyway. "Thank you. Was that _so_ hard?" she asked, draining the contents of her beer bottle quickly.

"No, it wasn't. But the good fight had to be fought, kid. Please don't hold a grudge against me, ok?" he pleaded, handing her another beer as a peace offering.

Fiona opened it and began drinking immediately. "Three Dog. Let's be clear. That was a _dick move._ I risked my life just to get to you in the first place. I fought Super Mutants at your front door. All this, just to hear one sentence out of your big fat mouth. And for the first time, probably ever in your life… you decide to keep it shut. You sent a 19 year old girl, fresh from a vault, to fight more Super Mutants, all so you could feed your ego by hearing your voice all over the wastes. 'Good fight' my ass. If you were so concerned with making the world better you'd be out there," she said pointing at the walls "with dirt and blood on your hands. Not in here running your mouth about it."

Her second beer was now gone. Three Dog did not rise to offer her a third. The DJ sighed once, and after a moment of thought, responded calmly. "You're hardly the first person to tell me that, kid." His head seemed to sag as he continued. "You think I don't know it looks hypocritical when I sit in a safe studio, guarded by the Brotherhood, and preach about the good fight? Trust me, _I know._ But…" he paused as if collecting his thoughts. "I'm accomplishing something that no one else is. I'm reaching people's _minds_. Planting a seed in their thoughts that things _can _ be better, that _we_ can be better and hoping… praying… that a handful of them will be inspired to take action." Three Dog rose from his seat, opening the fridge and searching for something. He continued to speak with his head in the ice box.

"I get reports from all over about _single_ instances of selflessness and heroism. Never any true heroes or messiahs out there, of course. But the _moment_ I hear about some solitary act of goodness, I scream to the air waves about it. I want to take those moments and amplify them. People need others to lead by example and I'm trying to make sure all those examples are found… Ah ha! Found them."

Fiona was momentarily confused. _He found examples of altruistic human behavior in his refrigerator? _Three Dog turned around with four brahmin steaks on a plate. He walked to the dilapidated oven in the corner and flipped a knob to Broil. "Figured you two might be hungry. Let me treat you to a little something special I've been saving, kid. I figure you and I can each take care of one but big man over there probably needs two steaks." The DJ arranged the meat on a large rusty metal tray and slid them onto the top rack as the broiler glowed red.

"Um… thanks." Fiona said sheepishly. He was starting to kill her anger-buzz.

Three Dog returned to the table and sat down. He looked at Fiona with heart-felt sincerity. "I _am_ sorry, kid. I saw an opportunity in you and I pounced on it without thinking, just like a common, selfish, wastelander. I guess I'm a product of my environment. But this whole thing" he said, sweeping his hand across the studio, "is dedicated to changing that environment, not to my ego… though maybe it seems like it. People need _hope_, no matter how far away or small. I'd like to think I give 'em that…" He sat back, a satisfied look on his face. Then he winked at her. "Besides, a good man always knows his limitations. I wouldn't last three seconds out there."

Fiona sat in silence for a while, absorbing what had just been said, as Three Dog sipped his beer.

The DJ took advantage of her reverie to change the conversation. Turning to Charon, he asked "So, Charon, right?"

The ghoul nodded silently. Until he was told otherwise, he felt that his employer would not be opposed to him answering a few simple questions from the DJ.

"Your name sounds familiar." Three dog tapped his head like he was trying to jar a stubborn memory loose. "You know a ghoul named Quinn?"

Charon nodded again, more slowly this time.

"He's a cool guy." Turning to Fiona to fill her in, "Quinn's a trader that travels through DC. Stops by here from time to time. It's a good thing too, since most traders can't get by the Super Mutants. He's got a good business trading with the few non-homicidal beings that still live inside the ruins."

Fiona had heard about Quinn from Tulip during their hour-long chat fest, though she had not met him personally. Apparently, in addition to being Underworld's only outside trader, Tulip mentioned that he had "really nice bone structure" which Fiona had gathered was 'ghoul' for "I think he's hot."

Three Dog continued. "Yea Quinn stops by here and trades, and also keeps me up to date on some of the happenings in DC. Talks about Underworld a lot too, when he gets drunk enough," Three Dog added, laughing. Turning back to Charon, he continued "And I know he's mentioned you but I can't remember why."

Charon, getting no signal of any kind from his employer responded dryly "I used to work security at a bar in Underworld." He decided to follow Fiona's lead from earlier and keep things vague.

"Yeah, that sounds familiar. He said the bar there had some huge badass as a bouncer that no one ever wanted to cross." A sizzling sound interrupted the conversation. Three Dog rose, walked to the oven and flipped the steaks. A delicious smell of roasting beef filled the air when the oven door opened. "Steaks'll be ready in a few more minutes."

The smell was intoxicating. Fiona had not had red meat since she left the vault. Even then, the steaks in 101 had all been cryogenically stored and had an odd metallic aftertaste to them. Radroach and molerat had been her regular protein sources on the surface, and they couldn't even begin to compare to the smells now wafting from Three Dog's oven.

"Well," Three Dog continued, "I'm glad Fiona's got a badass to watch her back." The DJ raised his beer in a toast that was not reciprocated by either of his dinner guests.

The mood lightened significantly once they started eating and the alcohol began to flow again. Radiated or not, Fiona thought the brahmin steak was the best thing she'd ever tasted and wolfed hers down like a starving yao guai.

* * *

"…But no, but like, that's not _enough_ though. Desperate times call for desperate measures… and I think these are damn desperate times, TD. Can I call you TD? Imma call you it."

"Kid, you'll get no argument from me about the desperation of the times. But the ends don't justify the means."

Charon had zoned out at some point and now had no idea what the hell the two were talking about. Beer bottles littered the table and the conversation had grown annoyingly philosophical. _These are desperate times. I desperately have to piss. _Out of habit, he caught Fiona's gaze and nodded in the direction of the bathroom. Fiona nodded 'ok' in acknowledgment and continued to banter about everything and nothing with the only person in the wastes who liked to talk more than she did.

The instant the door of the bathroom closed behind Charon, Three Dog's face dropped its jovial mask. In as soft a voice as he could manage, he spat "Ok, girl. Let's cut the crap. A slave? Seriously!? I'm sure you'll make a very _kind_ master but damn…" He shook his head disappointingly. "I didn't take you for the type."

Fiona was caught completely off guard by the accusation, accurate though it was. At some point during dinner, Three Dog must have remembered something from the years-old conversation with Quinn that filled in the gaps that Fiona and Charon had intentionally left blank. _Apparently Quinn's great bone structure helps him run his yap and gossip. _She knew it looked bad.

"It's… it's not like that, though. He _was _a slave, well 'contract employee' is the term that was used… and yes I know that's just a fancy term for a brainwashed slave. I mean, he still is I guess but I don't want it to be like that, though" Fiona said, pleadingly.

"How do you 'want it' to be, then?" Three Dog asked sarcastically.

"Three Dog, I needed _help, _ok? I almost died running your stupid errand and the only person for hire I could find was a brainwashed 'employee'." Fiona explained.

"But you didn't _hire_ him. You _bought_ him." Three Dog was not pulling any punches.

"Three Dog… you should have seen him. It was awful there, he hated it and the guy who owned his contract was the sleaziest douche bag I've ever met. I couldn't just leave him there…" she trailed off as she thought back to that morning.

"We're talking about a person. Not a stray puppy" Three Dog stated coldly. Now, Fiona looked like she was about to cry. Three Dog sighed, leaned his head back and rolled his eyes. "Hey, don't go cryin' on me now. Look, maybe your heart was in the right place, but you gotta understand that, until you sell his contract to someone else, you own a _person_."

"Three Dog, I even asked him if I could set him free. Just… give him his own contract and let him do whatever. He says he can't own his own contract. What was I supposed to do?"

From the pained expression on her face, he could tell that Fiona was genuinely concerned and morally conflicted. Three Dog sighed heavily. "I don't know. It _is_ a tough call. Sorry I judged."

"Trust me, if there is some way, _any_ way to undo what was done to him, I'll do it."

"I believe you, kid. You're a good per…"

The duo stopped their conversation abruptly as the bathroom door opened and tried desperately not to sound like they had just been talking about Charon.

They needn't have tried. Their attempts at whispering might have worked four or five beers ago. But at this point in the evening, their whispers had sounded comically loud to Charon, even through the bathroom door.

At first, he felt angry at Quinn. No one likes to be gossiped about, especially when the topic of conversation is one's lack of free will and an inexplicable dependence on a scrap of paper.

Then, he felt the unexpected urge to jump out and defend his employer from the DJ's moral outrage. It wasn't _her_ fault he was… broken. That was done centuries ago by people long since dead. It wasn't her fault that he had suffered, and was made to inflict suffering. And as much as he hated the analogy, he felt a bit like a rescued stray… with a shotgun.

Now, Charon was afraid. She wanted to fix him. What would happen when she found out… there _was_ no fixing him. He couldn't seriously expect her to keep him around for the rest of her life. She'd settle down somewhere eventually, marry, maybe have kids. Charon forced himself to take solace in the knowledge that she was a good person and whoever she sold his contract to, would be as well.


	7. Chapter 7: Standing Orders

**Author's Note**: Just a short angsty chapter. Longer, more plot-relevant stuff coming soon. Also, when I looked up the precise lyrics to "Civilization" a few of the words were different than what I thought. Ever feel really disappointed when lyrics aren't what you thought they were? :-/

* * *

Fiona woke the next morning with the worst hangover she'd ever had in her admittedly short drinking career. As she struggled to get up, she could feel her head throb angrily with her every movement. She stopped moving and closed her eyes in an effort to stop her head from exploding. As she breathed deeply, she tried to piece together the previous night. She remembered eating steaks with Three Dog and Charon, drinking… a lot… getting bitched at for being terrible slave-owning scum… _Then what?_ A blurry memory resurfaced of being carried to a spare room with a mattress and a pair of enormous arms laying her gently down to rest. _Oh shit, I was so drunk that Charon had to carry me to bed. A great first impression for your new… employee, Fiona._

After a few minutes she felt ready to open her eyes and examine her surroundings. She was in a small room that felt more like an oversized closet than a guest room. Charon's bedroll was spread out in the corner near the door, which meant he was around here somewhere. Listening, she could hear the distant singing of the Andrews Sisters as they joined Danny Kaye in a delightful chorus of "Civilization."

_So bongo, bongo, bongo, I don't wanna leave the Congo, oh no no no no no_

_Bingo, bangle, bungle, I'm so happy in the jungle, I refuse to go…_

_Wow, _thought Fiona, _it just bingo, bangle, boggles my mind that anyone thought these lyrics were appropriate… and that Three Dog plays it as often as he does. Still, it is really catchy. Fuck…Now it's going to be stuck in my head all day. _

Fiona mentally braced herself and sat up. There was a brief flare of pain in her head which lowered to a dull throb. Breathing deeply, she swung her legs off the mattress and stood. Fiona felt the floor pitch and roll as if she was on a ship and she strained with the effort just to stay vertical. Her skin felt sticky with grime and night sweat under her leather armor. _Please tell me there's a shower somewhere in my future._ Even cold irradiated water would feel good right now.

At that moment, the door creeped open slowly and Charon quietly eased inside. She smiled at him, warmed by the considerate gesture.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw her standing. He'd obviously expected her to still be asleep. "You're awake. I tried to be quiet."

"Good morning," Fiona said softly, the sound of her own voice hurting her ears. "And don't worry, you were. I just woke up a minute ago. Sorry about last night. I uh…I don't normally get that drunk," said Fiona sheepishly, looking down at her boots. "I didn't puke on your shoes or do anything terribly embarrassing did I?"

His pause was answer enough for Fiona.

"Shit. I did, didn't I? Damn it. What'd I ralph on?" She looked around the room and when it appeared clean, or at least as clean as any other room in wasteland could be, Fiona examined Charon for puke stains.

"You did not vomit" he reassured her in a tone that was softer than anything she'd heard from him so far. "You…cried. I was unsure how to make you stop."

"_Why are you being so nice to me?" she slurred woozily as Charon kneeled on the floor to gently place her on the mattress. Three Dog had insisted they stay the night since he was responsible for the current condition of Charon's employer. _

_Charon's response to her question was automatic. "It is my duty to serve you, for good or ill." He had no automatic response for what happened next: his employer burst into tears and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his chest as he remained kneeling and frozen with uncertainty. Eventually she passed out, to his immense relief. _

The memory hit her like a Nuka-Cola truck. She groaned, her face in her hands. Charon had said… something… something that was so sad it hurt her heart to hear it… and she'd lost her mind. She didn't remember everything she'd sobbed into his jacket but knew there was a lot of "I don't want you to hate me." "I'm gonna fix you." And even once she remembered crying out "You're not a puppy, Charon! You're a man, dammit. A man." She thought she recalled getting weepy over her father as well, but her memory was hazy.

Now, Fiona looked up at Charon through long messy black bangs. "Oh. Wow. I did, didn't I?" She knew she owed him some sort of explanation after that drunken scene. "I… I know I told you back in Underworld, but I'm not a bad person. I mean, clearly Ahzrukhal did something… or lots of things… to make you wanna kill him the first chance you had. I don't want to make those mistakes, whatever they are." She paused and Charon could see her coming to some sort of decision in her head. "So I want you to tell me if I _ever_ make you angry, or hurt you somehow. No matter what the contract says, I don't think of you as a sla-… an employee. Ok? Am I making any more sense than last night?"

As Charon looked into her eyes, his thoughts turned inward. Only one day into his new employment and this girl was already confusing the hell out of him. He understood what she was saying. He appreciated it. Appreciated it _a lot_ in fact. But she was… young. And even though he believed she meant every word that she said, 200 years of experience had shown him how easy it was for people with good intentions to be changed by the wasteland.

Overhearing her drunkenly defend herself to Three Dog last night had triggered a realization in him. He liked his new employer. After only one day, he trusted her as much as he was capable of trusting anyone. But it couldn't last. It never did.

She was still staring at him, clearly expecting an answer. So he replied "Yes, I understand what you are trying to convey." Her face fell and Charon could tell she was disappointed by his terse response. But what else was he supposed to say?

"Then what's wrong? You don't sound very…I mean… did I say something wrong?" she asked, confusion creeping into her voice.

Charon did _not_ want her to cry again. But, she had asked him a direct question. _God damn it._ "You said nothing wrong." He struggled to find the right words. "I am…confused."

"Explain" Fiona said softly.

Charon sighed, compelled to answer. "This is too good to be true" he said, almost at a whisper. The statement was as truthful as he could make it while sparing her feelings.

She looked as confused as he felt. "What do you mean, Charon? Do you not… you don't believe me?"

"I… I believe you intend to do as you say." He was unaccustomed to expressing himself freely and he struggled to compose his thoughts.

"Ok…so you believe me. Then what's the real problem?" She asked.

He prepared to answer, bracing himself to possibly ruin everything good that had just happened in the last 24 hours. It would his record for shortest employment ever. _But, _he thought with resignation,_ it's better to just end it sooner rather than later, before I get used to this shit._

"The last 200 years have not been easy, but the last 50 have been hell" he began. A faraway look came into his eyes for a moment before he continued. "Yesterday, you bought my contract, after asking me in private if there was some way to free me from its control. The whole experience seemed unreal, but I did not care." Unbeknownst to him, his voice became tight. "Except, it was real. And the next thing I know, we are leaving the Ninth Circle together. I have Ahzrukhal's blood splattered on my chest, just like I always dreamed of. And then you're…_buying_ me things?" he said in disbelief, waving to the bedroll in the corner. "And climbing dangerous ladders by yourself. And asking my advice, and _listening_ to it."

Charon paused for a breath. His voice had become thick with emotion but he dismissed the feeling in his throat as just soreness from disuse. "Last night I had steak for the first time in a century. But I couldn't allow myself to enjoy it because I was afraid if I got too comfortable, I'd jinx myself. Then when I left the room you said the same things to the DJ you said to me in the Ninth Circle and it hit me. You _really_ think you mean all that stuff. I believed you in the Ninth Circle when you said you were a good person, and I know you do mean to do all the things you promised… for now. But, you won't feel like that forever. No one ever does."

Charon stood tall, his face in its usual expressionless mask but Fiona could see the turmoil in his eyes. Three Dog was right: he was _not_ a stray puppy in need of a little TLC. He was more like an old junkyard dog who'd had all the hope and trust beaten out of him. The sheltered vault-dweller in her had some notion that all Charon needed was to be taken out of Ahzrukhal's grasp and somehow, everything would be ok. He'd be "saved" and she'd feel good about herself. He'd travel with her while she went looking for her dad and there'd be another item checked off on her "Change the Wasteland" to-do List. One look at Charon's face and Fiona realized how naive she'd been.

Stepping forward, Fiona stood in front of the massive ghoul and craned her neck upwards to meet his gaze. "Charon," she said with as much calm confidence as she could muster, "**thank you**. I had no idea you felt like that, and now a lot of things make sense. I think I really underestimated this… situation… and went into this whole contract thing unprepared."

Fiona paused thoughtfully. Messed up though it was, Charon would need to be "eased" into being treated like a person. She smiled inwardly as the solution came to her.

She spoke again. "Now, an order."

_This is more like it, _Charon thought, coming to attention.

"Continue being honest with me, Charon."

Charon stared at her blankly.

She continued. "You're right when you said this can't last. Because everything and everyone changes. So this…us…" she said pointing at herself, then him, then back to herself in rapid succession "will be different a year from now than it is today. And five years after that. And, assuming I even live long enough, twenty years after, and so on. And I have no idea where we'll be or what the situation will bring." She swung away from him and her voice turned hopeful. "Maybe I'll settle down in Megaton after I find my dad and… get closure? Or maybe I'll keep wandering the wastes, try to make a living as a scavenger. I cannot make you any assurances about any of that." She turned back to him and looking into his eyes, her voice turned solemn. "But I will make you a promise _right now_ that I not only intend to keep, but am _ordering_ you to help me keep as well."

Charon became alert again at the sound of the word "order".

"Do not ever let the wasteland change me for the worse," said Fiona. "At least, not in the ways that matter. If I become uncaring or cruel, you _will_ call my attention to it and remind me of this order. If I try to ignore your reminder, don't let me. And don't ever…and I mean EVER under any circumstances, allow me or anyone else to treat you like a slave. _That_ is an order. Do you understand?"

He nodded uncertainly. He'd just been given orders that allowed him some form of control over his his future, something unprecedented in almost 200 years of servitude. Charon stood staring down at his employer's face, which barely rose to the level of his chest. While he still felt cautious, Charon now had hope. He had a standing order that would allow him to try and make this situation last. It was more than he'd expected. More than he _deserved_. But he was a good employee, and wouldn't question his orders.

* * *

As the two exited GNR, they were greeted with the warm, sticky air of the ruins. The bright sunlight was like a knife in Fiona's eyes until she was able to dig out a pair of sunglasses. Her stomach growled with hunger and she reached into her pack and pulled out the first thing that felt like food. _Potato crisps. Well, can't make this hangover any worse, _she thought, opening the package. The crunching of the chips sounded like thunder in her ears and she groaned with pain, even as she continue to devour the chips. _Wrong again._

"Ahem…I have often heard that hydration may alleviate hangover symptoms," suggested Charon, discretely handing her a bottle of water. She gulped greedily at the liquid.

Despite the headache, Fiona felt lighter somehow. Some of the awkwardness between them from the day before had eased and the journey to Rivet City seemed less daunting. Fiona didn't know much about the place but she hoped that they had plumbing (_shower!)_ and maybe even a restaurant. Even after almost 8 weeks in the wastelands, she was still unused to "roughing it". She knew she'd have to wean herself off of "civilized" life if she was going to be stronger. A slow, wry smile crept onto her face as she began to hum and sing softly.

"Each morning, a missionary advertises neon siiiiiign. He tells the native population that civilization is fiiiine…" As she picked up steam, she took on a jaunty gait. "And three educated savages holler from a bamboo treeeeeee… That civilization is a thing for me to seeeeeee…"

Charon glanced at her sideways. Her dry croaking couldn't exactly match the Andrews Sisters but her playful attitude was infectious. When Fiona looked back at him, Charon's face looked impassive as ever but then she spied the movement of one of his fingers tapping along with her singing. She smiled and continued with gusto.

"So bongo, bongo, bongo I don' wanna leave the Congo, oh no no no no no…"

They were still in an area of the ruins that had recently been cleared of hostiles by the Brotherhood, so he let her have her fun. _Better get it all out now before we hit the Potomac,_ he thought. _I doubt the mirelurks like singing._


	8. Chapter 8: No Need

**Author's Note:** This is _really_ random, and I only thought of it because I wrote dialogue in this chapter where the LW had to describe her dad. I don't know if any readers here have played an Asian Lone Wanderer, but in my play throughs James always looked Caucasian to me. Luckily, Liam Neeson is THE MAN and I didn't mind if my Asian dad was an Irish badass instead. Then, I saw the Fallout Wiki entry for James and the default Caucasian version was slightly different from the one in my games. Comparing the two, I realized my James _was_ Asian… ish. Basically the Asian James looks like Liam Neeson if he were 1/4 Korean. Has anyone seen the African or Hispanic versions of James in game? Were they barely ethnic as well?

FancyLadySnackCakes: Fiona and Charon were planning on going down the Potomac anyway, and got hungry when you mentioned tasty mirelurks! Bon appetite :)

* * *

"I guess he prefers the Bob Crosby version" Charon said dryly, standing over the body of the still-twitching mirelurk. Ignoring his earlier warning, Fiona had begun singing "Way Back Home" during their trek. Not even 5 minutes had gone by when a mirelurk charged out of the water, claws snapping viciously. To her credit, Fiona smoothly drew her SMG into place as if she had expected it. It took three bursts but without panicking, she walked a stream of 10mm slugs up the torso of the mirelurk and into the small unarmored opening of its face just as it got within reach of her. Charon's shotgun began to bark and the crustacean quickly tumbled and fell, its body landing just inches from her feet.

"Are you sure? I think he was running up for an autograph. And I'm certain that was applause he was clacking out with his pincers." Fiona laughed, imitating the claws with her hands. Leaning in towards the man-crab, she asked it "Weren't you buddy? You were just a rabid fan who got a little carried awa-" Fiona felt herself suddenly jerked backwards as one of the pincers snapped shut right about where her nose would have been. "Whoa!" she screamed. "What the hell? It's still alive?"

"No," Charon replied casually, releasing her. He pulled out a knife and began prying off bits of shell to expose the meat. "But they still have some involuntary motor reflexes for a while after they're dead. So be careful, smoothskin." _Also, I'd be the most useless bodyguard ever if my employer were injured by a _dead_ mirelurk,_ he thought to himself.

Fiona recovered quickly from the adrenaline rush by using breathing and concentration techniques Charon had told her about earlier that morning. Hands steady again, she went back to helping Charon carve up choice pieces of the river monster for its meat. She'd never had mirelurk. She'd seen them before. She'd even planted a device in a mirelurk egg clutch for Moira. But, she'd always kept her distance and taken a stealthy approach around the beasts whenever possible, never confident enough to stop and butcher one on her own. She looked over at Charon, studying closely as he showed her where to cut and pull.

Smiling, she couldn't help but add "Hey, you called me _smoothskin_."

He paused, not having realized it himself. "Yes, you told me not to call you by a formal title, and said anything else would do. Is that not ok?" Charon asked uncertainly.

"No, that's great actually. It's the most relaxed you've sounded yet. I noticed you always seem to feel good after a fight."

He nodded. Combat was the only time he felt completely in control of his own fate. In action, his mind and body moved in perfect harmony, unencumbered by the terrible conflict between his thoughts and his body's compulsion to obey orders.

As they continued to field-dress the mirelurk, Charon looked thoughtfully at Fiona. "You reacted without panicking when the mirelurk attacked." Remarks complete, he returned to his work.

Fiona looked up with mild surprise. _I'm not sure but I think he just paid me a compliment._ "True, but it took me like three bursts before I hit him where it hurts," she said, pausing to wipe the sweat from her brow. "Definitely room for improvement…"

"If you wish, we could go over some combat marksmanship fundamentals. At a more suitable time and place, of course" suggested Charon.

"Definitely. Ammo doesn't grow on trees and look how much I wasted before I hit my target," she said, kicking at the mirelurk body.

Once the lurk was sufficiently butchered, the two continued along the bank, scanning both the murky river and the unstable looking walls of the ruins. This time, quietly.

"So why'd we take this way instead of going through DC?" Fiona asked, keeping her voice low so as not to attract any more adoring fans.

"Fewer Super Mutants this way. There will still be some, and normally it's a bad idea to box yourself in like this between a wall and the water, but given your inexperience, this route is safer overall." Charon added, "Also, there should be at least one easy-to-locate trader along this path. In the ruins, traders are less common and make themselves harder to locate, for good reason. It is always a good idea to plan a route where you have the option of obtaining supplies along the way, even if you begin the journey well stocked."

Fiona smiled. Charon was full of useful survival knowledge. She realized how lucky she was to have found him… how lucky they were to have found each other, honestly.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time Fiona and Charon arrived at the entrance to Rivet City. All she knew before arriving was that Rivet City had been an aircraft carrier before the war. Having seen pictures of the large ships in old books did not prepare her for the enormity of the ship as she stood waiting for the bridge to extend and grant them entrance. Understanding concepts like buoyancy and distribution of mass was still not enough to diminish the awe she felt, looking at something so massive that not only used to float, but travel the oceans as well.

The sound of groaning metal echoed all around her as the rotating bridge docked with the waiting platform. As her boots thumped on the metal plates, bringing her closer to her father with every step, Fiona realized she was nervous. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? What would she find him doing? She had no idea. But, she knew one thing: if he was doing anything less than single-handedly saving the future of humanity in the wasteland, she was going to be pissed.

As they approached the end of the rotating bridge, a man stepped purposefully into their path. She could tell he was some sort of law enforcement officer by his black riot armor and no-nonsense expression. With his strong jaw and piercing blue eyes, he would have been attractive… if he didn't look like he was about to arrest them.

"Welcome to Rivet City. I'm Chief Harkness, head of Rivet City Security" he said in clipped tones. He stood straight and serious, eyes forward. He eyed Charon for a moment, sizing him up. "State your business here."

"Um, hello, sir. I'm looking for my father, James Lin. I received word that he was traveling here. Have you seen him?"

"The name isn't familiar" Chief Harkness replied, curtly.

"He's an Asian man in his 50s. About…5' 9". Salt and pepper hair. He would probably have one of these on his wrist." Fiona held out her Pip-Boy for the officer to see.

"Ah," Harkness said with recollection in his voice. "wearing one of those old vault suits, right?"

"Yes!" Fiona exclaimed.

"Yeah, he was here a few weeks ago" Harkness said nonchalantly. "Came and went though."

Fiona's heart sank. She had missed him _again_. "Please," she begged, "do you have any idea where he was going when he left here?"

"Sorry, young lady." Harkness responded, without emotion. "I don't know."

_Don't know or don't care? _"Do you at least know where I can find a… Dr. Li? I was told he came here to see her." Fiona was _not_ going to give up easily. Not after everything she'd been through.

"Yea, Dr. Li runs the science lab. She's not the most friendly person in the world though, kid." Harkness stated flatly. "So if you don't have an appointment, I wouldn't get my hopes up"

"Well, hopefully she'll make an exception" Fiona said, keeping a cheery façade. To herself, she added _Oh_, _she'll talk to me if I have to blow a hole in the middle of her lab. I will sink this entire fucking tub if I have to… _

"Yeah well, good luck with that." Harkness took a second look at Charon and held his glance this time. "You two just stay out of trouble while you're here. I run a tight ship, no pun intended, and I won't hesitate to throw you overboard if I get reports of anything… unsavory."

Fiona smiled as sincerely as she could while fantasizing about sinking his city and replied "Don't worry, Chief Harkness. We're just here to find my dad, do some trading, maybe chat up the locals. Oh! That reminds me, I'm actually helping with research for a book and one of the Chapters is about Rivet City…"

"Well, he was _no_ help at all." Fiona griped as she and Charon tried to navigate the confusing corridors of Rivet City. "I mean, honestly, how can someone just not know anything about the history of the city they are responsible for guarding?"

Charon shrugged. "Most people in the wasteland only have enough time to worry about staying alive. It's difficult to concern yourself about stories from the past when you're not sure of living through the day"

Fiona fought to suppress a huge grin. Charon had just spoken several consecutive sentences in a conversation _not_ related to combat or survival. This was progress. But she was afraid if she pointed it out to him, he'd retreat back into his shell in which she had just seen a tiny crack.

Rivet City turned out to be a maze of metal and rust. The constant groaning of the ship seemed to her like an old man's aching joints grinding together. The noise reverberating throughout the ship, combined with the vibrations of the shifting metal made her feel uneasy, as if the ship was going to fall apart any second. The interior of the city reminded her of a really run-down vault… a vault where the walls were somehow alive. Rounding yet another corner, following the signs and arrows, the two arrived at a hatch labeled 'Science Lab.'

Inside, she was… underwhelmed. While Fiona wasn't sure what she was expecting to see, the words 'science lab' evoked images of advanced technology and impressive equipment. What she saw was an old engine room filled with basic lab equipment devoted primarily to hydroponics research. Still, it was a worthy endeavor given the wasteland's lack of agriculture, and Fiona wondered briefly if this is why her father left the vault.

The hatch had opened up onto an elevated walkway above the lab. Scanning the room, she saw a handful of scientists milling around with tubes, clipboards, and other lab equipment. They looked busy but she got the impression they were pretending to work while really keeping their attention on something else. She followed their eyes to the far end of the lab where she saw an agitated looking Asian woman talking heatedly with an older man. At his side stood a man whose eyes never stopped moving. _Bodyguard_. The guard stared forward with a face displaying even less emotion than Charon's.

_That woman must be Dr. Li…_ Fiona glanced over to Charon and nodded her head in the direction of the angry scientist. As they proceeded along the elevated walkway and drew closer, Fiona overheard the tail end of what sounded like a very contentious conversation.

"For the last time, Dr. Zimmer. We don't have the resources or the time for your wild goose chases. We are working on real world solutions for real world problems here. Looking for your lost robot-"

"Android!" the old man interrupted.

"-I don't care. Looking for your lost _anything_, is not my priority. Now please, leave me and my staff alone. You spent all afternoon harassing Anna, wasting her time and now mine since I've had to come intervene." She leaned forward to emphasize her words. "If you are still here in five minutes I will call security. Good day!"

The petite woman stormed off without waiting for a reply. Fiona hurried down the stairs after Dr. Li. The old man turned to look at Fiona, then waved as if to beckon her.

"Dr. Li!" Fiona called out, ignoring the gesture.

"What?!" The doctor spun around, planting her feet firmly on to the floor, fists clenched at her sides. Fiona skidded to a stop, to avoid running into the angry woman. The anger quickly faded from Dr. Li's eyes as soon as she saw who had called out to her. "Oh… oh my God, it's you. You look just like him. You're… James' daughter, aren't you?" her tone growing progressively softer.

"I… yes. Yes, I'm Fiona. It's nice to meet you" she said, extending her hand to Dr. Li. The Doctor reached out gently and shook her hand as if she expected Fiona to fall apart from the slightest touch.

"But I don't understand," Dr. Li said, confusion in her voice. "What are you doing here. James said he left you in the vault."

"Oh he did. But I got… kicked out after he left. So, I'm looking for him…but obviously he doesn't know it." Fiona said with more than a little resentment in her voice. "Because I assume he wouldn't intentionally make me chase him all over the wasteland. Speaking of which," she added with thinly veiled frustration, "any idea where he ran off to now?"

Still in a state of disbelief Dr. Li answered. "Well, he was here several weeks ago. He came to recruit myself and the other Rivet City scientists back to Project Purity…"

"And you let him go to the mutant infested memorial alone?!" Fiona was furious. This bitch was on a first name basis with her father, got all weepy and dreamy just talking about him but she just let him walk off into the sunset to fight some Super Mutants in his old lab.

"Please understand…" Dr. Li pleaded, "your father is the most headstrong man I've ever met. When he puts his mind to something… well, there's no stopping him. It's one of the reasons we all stuck with Project Purity for as long as we did."

Fiona took a deep breath, knowing she'd need to calm down and be polite. _More flies with honey and all that_. "I'm sorry. I just… I'm worried about him. He left the vault without a word and I got driven out less than 12 hours later when the other residents turned on _me_ in retaliation." She sighed deeply with emotion. "He's been one step ahead of me this whole time and… I just need to find him."

Dr. Li gave her a look of sympathy. "If anyone can handle a bunch of mutants singlehandedly, it is your father. He's, well… he can take care of himself. You know, he grew up out here. We haven't heard from him, but with James, no news is good news. He's probably holed up in there, tinkering away and has no idea how much time has passed." She smiled fondly. "You know how he gets."

Fiona nodded. She did know. She could get that way too, another thing she inherited from dear ole' dad.

"Trust me," Dr. Li said, "you'll find him. And when you do, he may even have that purifier working again. I look over at the memorial every other day half-expecting to see the pumps pouring out clean water, just like we used to imagine."

"Thanks." Now that she had the information she wanted, Fiona really didn't want to spend any more time talking with Dr. Li. The overly familiar way she spoke her father's name made her uncomfortable. "I really should get going. Maybe dad needs a few extra pairs of hands in the lab."

Dr. Li smiled and wished her luck, going back to her work station.

Fiona had to admit, listening to Dr. Li's explanation of the monumental project her father (…and mother) had once been responsible for gave her a lot to think about. This project, if it ever succeeded, could change the wasteland. Clean water was the most basic physiological need of any living creature. If pure, non-irradiated water became abundant, agriculture and plant life could flourish. Disease would be reduced. People would live longer. Her father had abandoned her, but at least now she knew it was for a good reason. It helped ease her resentment… a bit.

As Fiona and Charon reached the stairs to exit the lab, Dr. Zimmer reached out brusquely towards Fiona. In a flash, Charon was at her side. He gripped the old man's wrist in an iron vice while simultaneously pushing Fiona behind him. Dr Zimmer's wrist twisted back at a painful angle and his face froze in a grimace of surprise. Charon saw a blur of motion and then his left arm was dropping, his hand frozen open uselessly. It took a second to register in his mind that his forearm had been struck hard and he snapped his head back just in time to dodge another blow. He stepped back into a low stance and looked warily at the man who had just dealt him pain for the first time in 20 years.

Zimmer's bodyguard stood still like a statue, giving no indication that he had moved at all. Charon's hands had just started to rise in a guard posture when the bodyguard's right fist lashed out with inhuman speed. Charon slipped his head instinctively and he felt wind as the punch slipped barely past his head. _Gotcha. _Charon sprang forward from his coiled stance, body twisting in a powerful corkscrew motion as his right fist landed solidly in the bodyguard's solar plexus.

To absolutely no effect.

Charon looked at the bodyguard in surprise. _What the fuck? That punch should have made a hole in his chest. _Instead, the man looked back at him calmly, seemingly unconcerned that a 7-foot ghoul had just attempted to touch his spine with his knuckles. Charon recovered and immediately threw a punch at the bodyguard's head as hard as he could. He felt the satisfying impact travel up his arm as he made contact and was pleased to see the guard's head whip to the side. _Finally._

There was a pause as the bodyguard seemed frozen in place. Then Charon felt a small chill go down his spine as the guard's head slowly turned back to him. _Okay. Now there is something definitely wrong here. _Charon punched again but just before his fist made contact, he saw the guard's body shift and there was a sudden explosion of pain in his right shoulder, followed by a sharp impact in his left chest. His right arm suddenly felt powerless and slack. _Shit. I think he just punched my arm out of its socket. _He took a breath and felt a knife-like pain stabbing his ribs. _And he also had time to break my ribs just for shits and giggles. _Charon stepped back, cradling his injured arm.

"Stop it!" Fiona yelled, throwing herself at the stranger, but was flung backwards with ease by the silent bodyguard. When she landed, the wind was knocked out of her and she could not speak for several moments. However, she still tried with all her might to signal to Zimmer to call his man off. Zimmer, however, stood proudly watching his guard dismantling Charon piece by piece. He nodded to his guard to continue.

Charon thought quickly. _He may not feel pain, but he can't ignore physics or leverage. _ His leg lashed out at the inside of the guard's right knee. When the guard's leg buckled slightly, Charon aimed a powerful kick at the chest of the now unbalanced guard. The impact lifted him off his feet and there was a dull clang as the guard flew backwards and landed on the deck. After a pause, the bodyguard rose to his feet with a look of mild surprise and closed in on Charon. This time, he cocked his fist with deliberate slowness as if he had all the time in the world. Charon tensed, readying a blow of his own.

Suddenly, the hatch to the science lab banged open and Four Rivet City security officers rushed into the science lab, weapons drawn. "Stop where you are!" one of the nameless officers screamed.

Fiona turned to Zimmer, red in the face with anger. "_Stop him_ and I'll call off Charon and we can avoid an even bigger scene, alright?"

Zimmer sighed. "Very well. Armitage! That will be all."

As if flipping a switch, Armitage's fist stopped in mid-swing. Charon, on the other hand, landed his punch square on the other man's jaw. As before, Armitage silently absorbed the powerful blow and returned to Zimmer's side without a word.

A pair of heavy footsteps descended the stairs and Fiona glanced up to see Chief Harkness staring daggers at all four of them.

"I told you to stay out of trouble less than half an hour ago" he said, looking at Fiona and Charon. "I think you've all outstayed your welcome in Rivet City." He motioned for the guards to surround them, but Zimmer spoke up.

"Chief… Harkness, was it? That really won't be necessary. This entire incident was a misunderstanding. I'm afraid this little scuffle was inadvertently started by me."

"Explain." The Chief was clearly in no mood to listen to excuses.

"I was merely trying to get the young lady's attention and since she seemed not to see me waving her over the first time, I felt it necessary to reach out to her. I think perhaps my gesture was misinterpreted as aggression and her… um, whatever" he pointed flippantly in Charon's direction "felt the need to intervene. Perfectly admirable. Well, Armitage reacted to his movements against me and I'm afraid things just got a bit out of control. I can assure you it will not happen again."

The Chief did not look terribly convinced, but since whatever problem the two men seemed to have had with each other was now resolved, he simply gave a warning. "One more wrong move" he said, sweeping his gaze over all four of them. "That's all it'll take for you to get kicked out of my city for good. Now I think Dr. Li would appreciate it if you left her Lab." He turned on his heels and ascended the stairs out of the lab. Sure enough, the science staff was standing around staring at them, a very annoyed Dr. Li in front of the crowd.

"Perhaps we should step outside in the corridors?" Zimmer suggested. "I have a proposition to discuss with you."

Fiona stared at him in disbelief. "Are you _fucking _serious? After _that?_"

"I assure you I meant no harm, and this will be quite worth your while" Zimmer assured her with a sly smile.

Fiona had no interest in whatever he had to say. She was, however, very interested to get an explanation about what the fuck just happened. "Zimmer, can I get a guarantee that you're going to keep him on a leash" she said, pointing Armitage.

"You have my word."

Not that his word was necessarily worth anything, but Fiona nodded. "Fine, 2 minutes. Outside."

Zimmer and Armitage moved towards the exit as Fiona whipped around to see to Charon. "Are you ok?" She said, her voice dropping low with concern. "Anything broken?"

"I believe my right arm may have a posterior dislocation of the shoulder. Several ribs may be fractured on my left side." He said, matter-of-factly.

"_What!_ We need to get you to the clinic now!" she exclaimed.

Charon looked at her curiously before replying. "No need." He released his injured arm and bent slightly at the waist. She could see his right arm hanging at an unnatural angle and she gasped involuntarily. Charon opened his legs and pinched his right wrist, locking the injured arm with his thighs. Her eyes widened in shock as he straightened upwards, stretching his arm. His body quivered with the effort until suddenly, his shoulder popped back into place. A soft grunt of pain escaped his lips and he closed his eyes in concentration. After a moment, his eyes opened and he began to gingerly move his shoulder. "The shoulder dislocation has been reduced."

She looked at him incredulously. "Well…your ribs are still broken…"

"They are not serious enough to require immediate attention. I believe it is safe to wait until after your conversation. There is one more thing." He paused, weighing his next words carefully. "I have literally decapitated someone before with a punch." He looked towards the door where Zimmer and his bodyguard had exited. "That guard is not human."


	9. Chapter 9: Rivet City Hues

Once security was gone, both pairs stood eyeing each other cautiously in the narrow corridor, with only the sound of metal straining against centuries old rivets to break the silence. Finally, Zimmer spoke. "I apologize for the commotion." Zimmer paused, and smirked. "I had no idea your… servant… was as protective of you as Armitage is of me. Let's let bygones be bygones, shall we? I think perhaps we are more alike than different." The oily smile that came over Zimmer's face made Fiona cringe inwardly. She could guarantee they were _nothing_ alike.

"Charon is a hired mercenary, not a _servant_, Mr. Zimmer" Fiona corrected him, trying her best to sound polite.

"It's _Doctor_ Zimmer, young lady," he snapped. "And don't play semantics with me. Mercenaries working for a payday don't react like that. What I saw was loyalty in action. You can't _rent_ that kind of loyalty. You have to… _buy_ it." He smiled mirthlessly and fixed her with a look that seemed to bore right through her.

Fiona felt frozen with a kind of fear as Zimmer's knowing gaze laid bare her secret guilt. Smirking in victory, Zimmer adjusted the knot in his tie and continued. "That's why I feel you will be sympathetic to a task I am trying to complete here in Rivet City."

She wanted nothing more than to walk away, giving Zimmer and his man-servant the finger as she did. But Fiona also knew from experience that sometimes, the best way to prevent a bad thing from happening was to make the bad guy think it was already being handled. "Alright, _Doctor_ Zimmer," she said smoothly, "what sort of task are we talking about?"

"While the precise details do not concern you, I work for an organization called The Institute, in the Commonwealth" said Zimmer, with a more than a trace of condescension. "I am here because I am looking for a piece of Institute property that has… gone missing. I need assistance in locating it. That is, if you are interested in earning some of those bottle caps you people use as currency."

Fiona knew from eavesdropping earlier that Zimmer was looking for a missing android. She had found some holotapes that referred to androids during her travels but had been unsure what to make of them. Most people she met seemed to think it was all part of an elaborate hoax. However, now that she had met Zimmer and his "servant" Armitage, she knew those tapes had to be real. She could see Charon's posture was extremely tense and his facial muscles were twitching, ever so slightly. Despite his injuries from the brawl, she doubted very much his unease stemmed from physical pain. She could tell he had a bad feeling about Zimmer. It was mutual.

He continued. "The missing property we are searching for is something called an _an-droid_," he said, enunciating clearly and slowly as if speaking to a child.

Her face grew hard_. _"I know what an android is," said Fiona sharply, cutting Zimmer off "and I'm pretty sure Charon does now too." She stared daggers at Armitage, not that it had any effect. "And I've already heard several of the android holotapes floating around the wasteland." She paused thoughtfully, artfully painting a look of interested greed on her face. "I am always looking for a challenge… Let's talk caps, Zimmer."

* * *

Fiona was marching Charon to the Rivet City Clinic. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Fiona knew that Charon's broken ribs and his right shoulder would need treatment. And she preferred it to happen _sooner _rather than later. Fiona had learned first-hand about healing and ghoul physiology after a late night run-in with Gob during her early days in Megaton.

Fiona had been walking around the sleeping town of Megaton, waiting for a mattress to free up in the common house. To her amazement, she saw someone leaning over the pool of irradiated water near the bomb and splashing the toxic liquid on his face. But it wasn't crazy Confessor Cromwell basking in Atom's glow for once. She recognized the figure as Gob, the ghoul who worked at the bar at Moriarty's. He had been the first person to be nice to her in the town. But as she approached, he shied away, trying to hide his face. When she got closer, she saw why. He tried to cover his face with his hands but she could see the ugly results of a brutal beating through his fingers.

As she watched, she could see the wounds soaked in the irradiated water slowly mending before her eyes. They shared the silence for a few moments before Gob spoke. "I gotta get back. Or he'll get mad, and I'll end up down here again." Fiona's heart broke and she reached out to him but he stepped back from her and made his way up the ramp towards Moriarty's. Brand new to the wasteland, she'd had no idea what to do or say, and stood helplessly as he retreated back inside.

But here in Rivet City, there were no pools of radiation for Charon to splash around in. Also, for internal damage and bone/joint injuries, Charon would need a very _long_ soak in a radiation-heavy environment to heal them, something else she learned when Gob "fell" and broke his arm about a week after the first incident. She supposed she could take Charon outside and let him soak in the mild radiation of the river, but there just wasn't the time. She had residents to interview, new homes to arrange, dads to find and androids to warn. And only a few hours of daylight left.

Once they reached a spot with no other people, Charon looked over to his employer. He spoke softly. "What Zimmer asked you to do…" he paused, unsure of just how "freely" he could speak to her.

But Fiona knew what he was thinking and placed her hand reassuringly on his arm. "No, we are not going to help him hunt for his escaped slave. Oh, we're going to find him, Charon. But we're going to warn him, not turn him over."

Charon nodded, reassured. He had hoped her deal with Zimmer was an act, much like the one she used on Ahzrukhal. So far, his new employer did not seem the type to participate in anything that was terribly immoral. Still, if ordered to capture and return an escaped slave, he would be compelled to obey. While grateful for her good nature, he was also perplexed by his employer's compulsion to help everyone she met. She could have simply told Zimmer "no" and been in the clear, morally. But she went one step further. It seemed to be a pattern.

The clinic was sparse and basic, much like the rest of the city. Cold gray walls and the smell of antiseptic and rust made for a rather depressing medical facility. Looking around, she saw a wastelander unconscious on a gurney, behind a screen. Next to him was a man in a dingy lab coat with glasses and a white beard, listlessly scribbling on a clipboard. "Hello?" she called.

The man looked up from his notes and when he saw Fiona, he stepped around the screen and introduced himself. "Hello, there. I'm Dr. Preston. How can I help yo-" he stopped mid-sentence when Charon walked through the door behind her.

"Yes, my friend here needs some treatment. He has some fractured, possibly broken, ribs and a shoulder that was recently dislocated."

The Doctor paused, trying to think of how to best handle this situation. "Ah… I uh, I see. Well, a few Stimpaks and some Med-X would be in order then." There was an awkward silence until the Doctor realized Fiona was expecting him to say something more. "I can sell you some," he said finally.

_Fuck. Not here too._ "Oh, um ok. Don't you need to examine him though? To make sure nothing else is wrong? And to make sure everything gets administered correctly… or something?" Even as she was saying the words, she knew exactly where this was going.

"Well… I lack the expertise for this particular… individual." He stammered. "I just… don't have any training in ghoul physiology" he said, trying to sound neutral.

"And I do?" Fiona said with an angry glare.

But Dr. Preston had nothing more to say. Robotically handing over the necessary meds in exchange for caps, he turned away and went to his terminal in the corner as if they were not even there.

"What an asshole." She muttered, ushering Charon into the back of the sparse clinic where an exam table was located.

"I will heal once we find a sufficient enough source of radiation. I do not require immediate attention." Charon sounded calm and unworried, but then Fiona remembered the little gasp of pain he uttered as he popped his shoulder back in its socket.

"Charon." Fiona said sternly. "Are you in _pain_?"

He sighed with resignation. "Yes. However, I have dealt with worse injuries and it is not necessary to-"

"It's necessary. I don't know what the hell Ahzrukhal made you go through, but you do not have to tolerate walking around with broken ribs and a bum shoulder. _Especially_ when we are in a safe city with access to medical help…" She glanced back at Preston "… Or lack thereof, I should say."

The doctor met her glance and shrugged his shoulders as if to say _I don't care what you think, _and returned to his notes.

She motioned to the metal exam table and Charon stepped towards it hesitantly. Gathering the Stimpaks and Med-X she'd purchased from Dr. Preston, Fiona followed him over and laid out the supplies on the nearby surgical cart. "Ok, just sit on the table." As he hopped up, the flimsy table groaned under his weight, but held steady. "You'll need to take off your jacket if I'm going to get to your injuries."

Charon looked uncertain but followed her orders, unbuckling his leather armor and placing it neatly at his side on the table. Fiona could see multiple gashes and holes in the leather, as well as large areas which had been patched up over the years. That armor had seen some things. Underneath it, he wore a faded black t-shirt. Like the armor, it was aged and riddled with holes through which small glimpses of flesh and muscle could be seen. When he made no motion to remove his t-shirt, Fiona said "I kinda have to get to your ribs and the back of your shoulder." She looked over at Preston pretending to be absorbed in his notes. "It's ok," she whispered. "Fuckface isn't watching." Fiona tried to reassure him, though she guessed he was more worried about her reaction to his ruined flesh than the medical "professional" in the corner.

Charon reluctantly lifted his shirt over his head. He strained when his bad shoulder tried to rotate, but he managed to slip his shirt off and placed it on top of his armored jacket. When his torso was revealed, Fiona tried not to stare. However, she had never seen this much of a ghoul before and the scientist in her was fascinated. Much like the other visible parts of his body, there were patches of absent skin revealing the angry red musculature beneath. But the muscles were not raw and wet. There appeared to be some sort of thin translucent protective layer over the muscle tissue that kept it from being exposed to the air. His remaining skin, though weathered, had the appearance of soft well broken-in leather. She wondered absently what his skin felt like.

_Wow, _she thought_. He could serve as an anatomy model._ His chest and shoulders were wide and well-developed and his abdominals and obliques seemed sculpted, etched with sharply defined furrows. He resembled nothing she had ever known in her limited experience with male anatomy in the vault. The flashes of awkward teenage groping, combined with the muscles in front of her made her mind wander, then instantly retreat.

Her face burned fiercely when she realized she'd been staring rather than administering medicine. She shook her head and reached over for a dose of Med-X. The Stimpak would heal his ribs but there would still be considerable pain as the bone knit back together. She was certain he'd appreciate having the sensation dulled, even if he was far too proud to ask for it. "Ready?" she asked Charon as she prepared the injection. He nodded, taking in a relaxed breath. Watching his chest slowly expand and contract, the muscles stretching and moving fluidly, distracted her again. _Focus,_ she thought to herself,_ scientific curiosity can wait._ She took the needle and injected the medicine into an exposed vein in Charon's arm. Within seconds, she could feel his injured arm relax slightly.

"Good. Now for the Stims." Fiona prepped two Stimpaks. One would be injected into the side of his chest cavity, while the other would need to go into the back of his shoulder, beneath the joint. While she'd had some medical training through her father, she had never received formal training as a doctor. Instead, the G.O.A.T. had assigned her as the vault counselor, a career path that seemed comical in hindsight. The medical career track would have been far more beneficial given how her adulthood was turning out. _I hope like hell I'm doing this right._

She pressed the first needle over the ribs where the fractures were and pushed until she felt the bone. When the ribs stopped her advance, she emptied the contents of the syringe. Charon made no noise, but she could feel him wince. "Ok, one down…" she whispered. Walking around the table to his back, she prepared the second dose. His back was just as impressive as the front. Wide and well-defined muscles popped in places she didn't even know muscles existed. There was a patch of missing skin just below his neck that allowed her to glimpse the outline of his vertebrae. Two months ago, she might have been disgusted. But for some reason, it didn't bother her now. She found herself wondering what he must have looked like 200 years ago.

Snapping back to reality, Fiona slid the second needle into the shoulder quickly and efficiently. "Ok. It'll take a few minutes for you to start feeling a difference. You should be fully healed in an… hour-ish. Two? Maybe. I'm not sure exactly. I don't have any training in…_ghoul physiology" _she said sarcastically, glancing back over to Dr. Preston. He continued to pointedly ignore her. _Fine, don't be goaded._ Returning to Charon, she said "Do you want any more Med-X?"

"No, I will be fine with the one dose." Charon paused. "Thank you."He considered telling her that standard pain meds and other sensation-altering drugs weren't as effective on ghouls, but decided it wasn't necessary for now. Though he'd received a full dose of Med-X, it was less than half as effective as it would be for a normal human. Still, it was more than he expected and he was grateful for it. He was also surprised that she had been willing to spend the caps on Stimpaks for him. Most employers just waited for him to find a radiation-heavy location to heal up. Charon didn't often have a choice, but he didn't want to be one of those ghouls who took a rad-bath for every injury. He had no proof, but he had always suspected rad-addicts were prone to turn feral.

Fiona smiled. "Ok, just sit tight for a few minutes, then we'll be out of here, ok?" She noticed Dr. Preston staring at them again, apparently very eager for those few minutes to pass. She sighed with frustration. So far, no one other than Three Dog had been even polite to Charon. As a 7-foot tall ghoul who was built like a tank, she knew he was intimidating, but she was still disappointed every time a person turned their nose up at him. She spared a glance back over her shoulder to her ghoul companion who was sitting quietly on the exam table. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of harsh environment had helped sculpt his physique. Somehow, she felt like those muscles came at a high price.

She must have been lost in her thoughts longer than she'd realized, because Charon suddenly caught her gaze and self-consciously grabbed his shirt and threw it back on quickly. _Shit. _The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like a freak show. Fiona spat out a panicky explanation. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to stare. I mean, I _was_ staring but not in a bad way. That is, I don't think you look bad." She felt herself starting to babble and she grew more nervous. "The musculature of your body… it's very well-developed. You look really good." She stopped herself before she said something really stupid. The compliment really had sounded a lot less awkward when it was in her head.

Dr. Preston looked up sharply and did not bother to disguise the look on his face or the "ugh" of disgust that he made. Fiona, rather than blushing and shying away, focused her feelings of embarrassment into a ball of anger instead. She whipped around to face the doctor.

"Don't 'ugh' me, Preston. I could do laundry on those washboard abs" she said pointing to Charon. "When was the last time you even saw yours?" She turned around to face Charon again and mumbled to herself "… you paunchy racist fuck…"

"Ahem…I believe the meds have done their work." Said Charon awkwardly, looking at his feet. "I am well enough to leave."

They left the clinic without incident as Dr. Preston glared at the two and shook his head at Fiona like a disappointed father. _Oh, piss off. You're not my dad._

* * *

Before they left for the Jefferson Memorial, she still had errands to take care of while they were inside the city. Finding the Weatherly hotel and its proprietor Vera Weatherly was simple enough. Getting the gossipy woman to shut up, however, was another story entirely. Fiona made the mistake of asking Ms. Weatherly about Rivet City's history before breaking the news to her about her nephew. Before she knew it, she was caught in a verbal tornado of current events and gossip, but no real history. _Ohmygod, I don't care about some lovesick teenagers. Some dude wants to off himself? Why don't you do something instead of yapping to a stranger about it. Focus, Ms Weatherly… _"Ms. Weatherly, that's really interesting, but I actually came to ask you something else as well… unrelated to Rivet City."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yes, your nephew Bryan… his father was killed a few weeks back." Ms Weatherly gasped in shock. Fiona held her hand up reassuringly. "Bryan's fine, he's holed up safe in his house with plenty of provisions and a friend of mine named Billy is checking in on him every couple of days. But he needs a more permanent place to live and you're his only relative."

"Oh that poor dear! Of course. Oh I'll send for him right away. Thank you so much!" exclaimed Vera, who then proceeded to compare Fiona's 'heroic selflessness' with the 'childish selfishness' of some local junkie named Paulie. _Will she ever shut up?_

Fiona also wanted to explore the market before departing. Since she'd heard the memorial was crawling with Super Mutants, she knew they would need more ammo, and probably some explosives as well. Luckily, there was a bit of everything in the Rivet City Market, as well as plenty of locals to ask about the city's history.

She made the rounds, visiting shops and interviewing residents. Her busted assault rifle was being repaired by Flak, one of the owners of the weapons shop. Flak had been surprisingly friendly for a man who, according to gossip she had not asked to hear, used to work for slavers many years ago. He reminded her a bit of Jericho back in Megaton… with better manners. Her armor was being repaired and tailored to better fit her by Mr. Bannon of "Potomac Attire." She'd had to work her charms and pretend to be cultured for that snob to even give her the time of day. She had also been tempted to stop at the restaurant for some of the delicious mirelurk cakes she smelled. But, since she and Charon had plenty of mirelurk meat from that morning, she knew it would be smarter to save the caps and just cook their own meat later.

Now, leaning against a far wall as she killed time, Fiona was deep in thought. _How the hell am I going to find an android that looks human and thinks he's human too? It could be anyone. Hell, he could be a woman now. The tape did say he was going to alter his appearance. Think. Where do I start looking… _The logical people to ask about how such a thing could be achieved would be tech and medical experts. Fiona's stomach sank. The tech experts were in the science lab… from which she was temporarily banned. And the medical expert … she'd just pissed off. _Ok then, I guess I'll need to look elsewhere for leads… at least until things cool down here. _

Fiona's eyes rested on the sign for the chem shop, "A Quick Fix" and she realized that she would be needing more Stimpaks and meds soon. Having burned her bridges with Preston, this was now the only game in town. Removing herself from the wall, Fiona walked up to the chem shop. However, when Fiona approached the stall, she found it empty.

"Um, hello? Anyone back there?" she called to the back of the shop. Perhaps the owner was… napping?

From the Potomac Attire stall, Bannon poked his head over. "Cindy closed up early today for some reason. She didn't say why, but she rushed out in a big hurry a little while ago. I'll bet it's that husband of hers causing trouble somewhere." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "He's a junkie you see…"

Fiona rolled her eyes. _Not again…_

Finally, they had what they needed and left Rivet City. She'd been able to buy some chems from Seagrave Holmes at Rivet City Supply. She'd also heard more gossip than she ever wanted to know. Though Rivet City was a haze of rusty grey, its citizens had proved to be far more colorful than expected. _Between Cindy's junkie husband, Angela's hopeless crush on Diego, ex-slavers selling guns and the suicidal Mr. Lopez, those people have more dirty laundry than I could wash on Charon's abs_, she thought chuckling at the mental image.

But she _still_ didn't know anything concrete about the city's history. The closest she had gotten to a confident answer had been a bunch of bullshit from Bannon about having founded the city himself. The only thing everyone's story had in common was the mention of the name "Pinkerton" somewhere in the city's past. Some people believed he was just a myth, others thought his ghost haunted the broken bow of the ship, and still others claimed to have known him years ago and assumed he still lived. But differing opinions aside, everyone seemed to know the name in one way or another.

As they crossed the bridge over to the platform, away from the floating city, Fiona turned to look at Charon. Something had been on his mind ever since the fight in the Science Lab. "What's wrong, Charon? You've had a really intense look ever since you fought with Armitage. Is it a guy thing? Like wounded pride or something? Because you've got no reason to feel that way. Fist-fighting an android and living to tell about it is totally badass."

"I think you need to find a more secure place to store my contract on a permanent basis." Charon's tone was tight and full of concern.

"Oh…" she said with a hint of surprise. "Ok. Um, is this related to the fight, or…" she paused. "What brings that up?"

"Zimmer. He's… I have a bad feeling about him and I don't want him to get his hands on it."

"I'd _never_ give him your contract, Charon. Plus, he doesn't even know about it." Fiona moved to stand in front of him, putting her hand on his arm. The second time that day, he noticed. "What am I missing?"

Charon took a breath, his face hard. "The Institute is where I was… trained." Thinking for a moment, he shook his head and continued. "But it's doubtful Zimmer knows that. It happened at least a 150 years before he was even born." He looked up, looking almost sheepish. "It's nothing." Straightening up, he nodded flatly and continued moving at his normal pace.

Fiona stared at Charon, biting back a question. There was clearly a long story to be told, but Charon was clamming up now. Deciding not to force it, she addressed his original concern. "Well, does your contract have to be on my person all the time?"

"No, but it needs to be clear that it is in your possession. Ahzrukhal kept it on him because he was paranoid. But some of my past employers have kept it in strongboxes or safes."

"Ok then, it's settled. As soon as we get a chance to take a break from the wasteland escapades, we'll head back to Megaton. I got a house there a few days before I left for GNR. There's not much inside, but the first accessory I'll buy will be a safe. Sound good?"

He nodded.

"Good. Until then, this baby stays on my person no matter what." Fiona smiled, patting her chest pocket where she had the contract tucked away to reassure him. Descending from the metal ramp and hitting the pavement, she added "Don't worry Charon. The only way I give up your contract is if _you_ want me to."

Before he could respond, a woman stepped rudely into their path. "Excuse me," she said, pointing sternly at Fiona. "I need to have a _word_ with you. Now."


	10. Chapter 10: Founding Father

"I need to have a _word_ with you. Now."

Fiona stood in surprised silence, taken aback at the sudden appearance of the stranger. She tensed when she saw Charon's eyes narrowing in caution but then noticed that Charon made no other move than to keep staring at the woman dressed in a typical Wasteland Settler Outfit. Fiona made her own threat assessment, looking the stranger up and down. The only thing threatening about her seemed to be a stern look. After a moment of silence, Fiona decided give her own concisely eloquent response. "Huh?"

"So," the strange woman continued, "I hear you've been busy. Got your assault rifle ready and your armor repaired. You look like you're going _hunting_."

Fiona had no clue what this woman was talking about. "Lady, I think you have me confused with someone else. I don't know what-"

"Oh, I have the right person! You're the one Zimmer just hired to hunt the android." Her hard gaze was accusing.

_And the complicated errand just got more complicated._ "Well, technically yes. He did give me that task…"

"And I'm here to tell you: Back. Off." Her tone seemed very bold for a unarmed woman facing down two heavily armed strangers.

She wasn't sure but Fiona thought maybe she and this irritating stranger had the same goals for the missing android. Still, rude was rude… "Ok… I don't know how _you_ were raised, but I was taught to politely introduce myself before threatening someone." Fiona stepped forward with a look of deadly earnest, stopping just in front of the stranger. "Let's start over shall we?" A smile replaced her serious look. "I'm Fiona," she said, extending her hand. When she saw that her gesture was not going to be reciprocated, her hand swept backwards to point at Charon. "…And this is Charon." More awkward silence. "And yes, Dr. Zimmer did ask me to find an android that ran away from The Institute but-"

"And you _agreed_ to do it. To hunt down an escaped slave. Well I won't let you!" The woman was now very agitated and Charon thought it prudent to step forward in front of Fiona.

"Oh my God, woman! Will you listen to what I'm telling you? He asked me to do it and I said yes… so that I could find the android myself and warn him!"

The woman paused, unconvinced. "Why should I believe you?"

Fiona closed her eyes, jaws clenched in frustration. "Well, I haven't killed you or slapped a collar around your neck yet. Most slavers, from what I understand, would have done one of those."

She was silent for a few moments, regarding the pair carefully. "Ok, maybe I can trust you." The stranger took a deep breath and released it, as if she had just come to a decision. "I'm Victoria Watts. I work for an organization called The Railroad. For years, we've been helping android slaves escape from the Commonwealth."

Fiona perked up. She wasn't aware such a thing existed. "You help escaped slaves? Like from Paradise Falls too?"

"No, we just help androids escape. There are plenty of other people helping the human slaves. We're all the androids have."

Fiona was pretty confused by that statement. Human or ghoul, slavery was a huge problem in the wasteland. Clearly, whoever was helping with _that_ railroad needed some extra hands. But she let Victoria continue.

Victoria reached into her pocket and retrieved a small metallic object. "Here." She said, handing it to Fiona. "If you really want to help keep the escaped android safe, take this to Zimmer. It's one of the android's internal components. Tell Zimmer you found him dead, and took this as proof. It's no use even trying to find the android now. He has no memory of what he is and wouldn't believe it if you told him. The best thing for everyone would be if Zimmer just went away."

Fiona looked skeptically at the object in her hand. "You really think he'll buy this? What if he asks for details? Or wants to see the body?"

"Zimmer has no idea what the android looks like now. Make up any physical description you want. And tell him the body is somewhere he'd never want to go, like in a sewer or something. Just hurry. Every minute wasted brings Zimmer one step closer to discovering the android's new identity!" She made a shooing motion at Fiona and Charon, as if to motivate them to hurry along.

"Wait." Fiona said sternly. "I'm willing to do this, but it'll be very suspicious if I turn around with this… component… just a few hours after he hired me." After a moment, Victoria nodded begrudgingly. Fiona continued. "I've got things to do. I'll come back in a few days and tell Zimmer the story. That'll be enough time for me to have traveled around and 'located' the dead android. Deal?"

Victoria gave her a long stare before she answered. "Agreed. But don't take _too_ long." Without even a farewell, she jogged back to Rivet City.

Turning to Charon, Fiona fixed him with a look of resignation. "Charon, do I have a sign on my back?"

He looked at her quizzically.

"You know… the one that says 'Please _rudely_ demand favors from me for no fucking reason'?Because that's been a theme lately."

It was difficult to tell, but Fiona was almost certain she saw Charon's mouth twitch in amusement.

* * *

As they approached the memorial, a series of pipes and platforms surrounding the building served as reminders for the massive project that once began there. Fiona was in awe. So far in the wasteland, she had not seen many things that had been built after the bombs fell. Mostly people lived in the old society's remnants, or built anew from their scraps. Nothing was well-crafted or solid. Megaton, though she was fond of it, was essentially a cobbled-together city of old-world scraps. But the construction around the old memorial was something entirely different. The project's construction was organized and solid, built with a clear purpose. She felt an unexpected pang of guilt in her chest. Her father was trying to do something extraordinary and she'd been harboring resentment towards him all this time. _No, hold onto a little anger,_ she told herself. _It's good fuel._

Charon waved to get her attention. He pointed his finger at his eyes and then swept his hand towards the memorial in a circular motion. _Good idea, _she thought. _Scout the place first. _With Charon in the lead, they carefully reconnoitered the outside of the monument for signs of Super Mutants. Seeing no signs of the lumbering beasts, they headed towards the only entrance they could see, the gift shop entrance. Charon signaled silently towards the door and Fiona raised her SMG, covering the where the opening would be. Charon carefully eased open the door and paused to listen. They both heard the unmistakable deep rumble of Super Mutant voices down a long hall.

Charon took a moment to think. He turned to Fiona and whispered "We'll do it like we did with the ferals in the metros." Smiling, she nodded. Charon padded quietly down the hall, his combat shotgun moving with his gaze. He soon came to a large doorway that marked the entrance to the gift shop. He poked his head around the corner for a split second, just long enough to see four Super Mutants patrolling awkwardly around the old gift shop. He carefully looked back into the room, following the quartet with his eyes as he listened intently for any signs of other Super Mutants. When he was satisfied that there were no other Super Mutants around, he smiled and turned back.

Quietly making his way back to the end of the hall, he signaled to Fiona with four fingers, indicating the number of mutants. 5 meters from the doorway, he set and armed 6 frag mines in a narrow pattern. Opening the door to the outside very slowly, Charon nodded to Fiona to bait them.

From just outside the door she yelled "Hello? Any Super Mutants in here? I sure hope not! Because my young, supple flesh is all sorts of tasty! MmmMmm, people!"

Charon gave her a curious glance. Apparently she was feeling creative. Within seconds ,they could hear the thundering footsteps of Super Mutants and a chorus of deep voices rushing towards the hall. "Ah ha! Found you!" "Anybody there?" "Now you die!" Outside, Fiona and Charon stood on opposite sides of the open doorway, hidden from view with guns ready. The brutes came thundering around the corner and made their way into the hall… right into the mine field Charon had created. The sound of explosions echoed in the tight corridor and Fiona felt her eyes blink involuntarily as a wave of smoke and debris flew past her. Fiona and Charon simultaneously stepped back, each looking diagonally into the smoke-filled hallway. Anyone still living looking out would only see the empty doorway, but Fiona and Charon could each cover the opposite half of the hallway without being exposed to fire.

Luck seemed to be on their side today. As the dust settled, they saw only one of the mutants still alive, minus one leg, reaching slowly for it's hunting rifle. Before he could get to it, Charon's shotgun rang out.

"Sweet." Fiona chirped. "Four down!" She was a little shaky, but also exhilarated. She felt much more in control this time, as compared to the last ambush.

Charon and Fiona waited patiently for the noise to settle. After 10 minutes, it was clear that no other mutants were forthcoming and they proceeded inside to carefully clear the gift shop. As they moved through the gift shop lobby, Fiona looked around for signs of her father. There had been someone here recently, someone who wasn't a Super Mutant. Power generators had been reconnected. Water lines were active. Her father had been tinkering away like crazy, just like Dr. Li assumed. She knew better than to start calling out for her father when more mutants could be lurking in the basement, but resisting the temptation was unbearable. Soon, they reached doors that marked the entrance to the Rotunda.

Charon motioned towards the doors, signaling his intentions. Fiona automatically went to a knee to cover behind them as he peeked through the Rotunda entrance. There were two more Super Mutants inside, pacing around what looked like a control center. _Too complicated to 'mime' a description,_ thought Charon. He waved Fiona over and pointed towards the mutants. One mutant was standing on the lower platform and a second was inside the control room above, surrounded by protective glass. _Daddy_, she thought, _please don't be up there._

Charon whispered "Grenade and spray this one" pointing to the mutant on their level. "Then run like hell to get underneath the platform. When Ugly up top comes down the stairs, we paint him red. Got it?"

This was more head-on combat than Fiona had experienced thus far. But with Charon at her side, she felt confident. Readying her newly repaired assault rifle, Fiona grasped the door handle. Charon pulled the pin on the grenade while holding his thumb down over the spoon and nodded to Fiona. She whipped the door open and Charon released the spoon, counting silently to himself. When he reached 2 seconds, he leaned in to toss the grenade with pin-point accuracy. It landed and immediately detonated right at the mutant's feet. The instant the grenade detonated, they let loose a savage burst of fire, taking the creature completely by surprise. It died on its feet without even raising its weapon before it fell. As the ground shook slightly with the impact from the mutant's massive size, they were already sprinting for cover underneath the platform.

A battle roar came from above them, echoing in the entrance to the Rotunda. Now safely in cover underneath the control room, Fiona and Charon readied their weapons. The pair aimed at exactly where the mutant would have to pass as it descended the stairs. As soon as the mutant's legs passed into view, Fiona triggered a burst. Legs shattered, the mutant tumbled down the steps, weapon falling from its enormous green hands. Charon finished it with a surgical shotgun blast to the face before it had a chance to recover.

Fiona made her way quickly up to the control room, searching frantically for a body but hoping not to see one. Luckily, there was nothing there except a lot of very sophisticated-looking equipment and a few holotapes left by her father. She was tempted to listen to them, but she knew that they had to clear the rest of the Memorial first.

Making their way down into the sub-basement, Fiona froze, seeing a bloody bag of gore and body parts resting on the floor ahead of them. She shuddered as Charon motioned for her to follow at a distance as they made their way through the next room and down the stairs. Around the corner, they could hear the tell-tale shuffling of massive feet. Laying the same trap they had used at the entrance to the Memorial, Fiona changed her taunt.

"Hello? Is this the Statesman Hotel? I have a reservation for the presidential suite!" This time, Charon _almost_ smiled. _I'm gonna get him to laugh eventually,_ Fiona thought.

"Jesus Christ, is that going to work _every_ time?" Now that the building was cleared of all mutants, Fiona was able to explore and loot the sub-basement. There wasn't much in the way of valuables but there were more signs of recent habitation by a human. She had seen what looked like a bunk room for a large group, possibly the Project Purity staff from years ago, but no sign any of the beds had been slept in. Continuing through the halls, she found more holotapes in a clinic and a Flood Control room as well. Finally, she found what she was looking for.

A door opened to reveal a small room with a bed, desk and more holotapes. There was also a half-empty bottle of Scotch, her father's drink of choice, on the nightstand. Judging by the lack of dust, he had been here recently. Feeling victorious, Fiona let out a tiny squeal of joy.

Charon bolted into the room from his position at the door. "What's wrong?"

Fiona stood staring at him, confused. "Nothing. Why?"

"You screamed" he said.

"Oh, sorry. Um, it was more of a happy scream? I think my dad had been here recently. But… he's clearly not now."

Charon simply nodded. "It will be nearly dark outside now. It would be wise for us to settle down here for the night. The building is clear and we can set traps in the corridors to warn us of any intruders. This door can also be locked from the inside," he said pointing to the bedroom door.

"Ok, sounds good. It's been a long day." A low growling noise suddenly broke the silence and startled Fiona. She realized it was her stomach. "Oh shit. Dinner! We haven't eaten since this morning."

"Then we had best secure the building quickly" said Charon, moving towards the entrance. After setting mine traps, they felt secure enough to prepare a meal. Charon found a burning barrel and placing a metal grate over the rim, created a make-shift grill. They put chunks of mirelurk meat on top, which grilled and browned very quickly. Charon had no qualms about eating the meat raw, but had a hunch his employer would not find it appetizing.

Fiona had to admit, the taste of the meat was… interesting. But it wasn't bad, and she was ravenous from the long day she'd had. She wolfed the salty chunks down and followed them with a Nuka-Cola. Charon must have still been stuck in his old habits, as he attempted to give her the lion's share of the meat even after she was finished with her first portion. "Charon," she said firmly "I am _half_ your size. You get the bigger portion. Period." She added after a moment "Jesus, Ahzrukhal must have been a massive dick."

Charon snorted, "You have _no_ idea." And with that, he began devouring his dinner.

With her belly full, Fiona began to relax and feel tired. She offered Charon the bed, since she had been given the mattress at GNR. But Charon insisted she take the more comfortable sleeping arrangement. She relented and sat back on the bed listening to the holotapes, a variety of emotions crossing her face. Hearing her mother's voice for the first time brought her to tears. Hearing her father, young and passionate about his work, made her smile. And listening to the more recent tapes, her father musing about rebuilding the project he'd abandoned years ago, evoked both awe for his grand vision and anger at having been abandoned for it. _Why couldn't he have had both? He abandoned Project Purity in favor of me, and then reversed the decision 19 years later._ _Is there some wasteland law against being a father and a visionary?_

When she got to the most recent tapes detailing his next steps, she felt her frustration bubble over. "I have been one step behind him this whole damn time!" she finally said aloud. "If he's headed to Vault 112 to look for Braun's notes, then he couldn't have left too long ago. But given my luck, by the time we got there we'd have missed him again." She sighed heavily. "He has to come back here eventually. Maybe my best bet at finding him is just to… keep checking in here? I mean, from the looks of all the work he's done to this place, he's been here the majority of the time I've been on the surface."

Charon nodded. "That may be wise. He has a clear plan, and now that we are aware of it, we can anticipate his movements."

Fiona smiled. "Ok, it's settled then. We'll check back here again in… a week? Maybe Two?" She paused, thinking. "Oh! I'll also leave him a little note to let him know to be expecting me. Because I swear if I come back here and he's come and gone again…" she trailed off, dark curses left unsaid.

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Charon settled against a wall and began disassembling his shotgun and cleaning it. At one point, he even voluntarily broke their comfortable silence. "Once we have an opportunity to rest from our… wasteland escapades…" Fiona smiled at his use of her phrase. "I will teach you basic weapons maintenance as well. The damage to your assault rifle could have been prevented with proper care. Weapons merchants will always overcharge for repairs to encourage their customer to buy a new weapon entirely. Then, they repair your old weapon themselves and sell it for an even higher profit."

Fiona realized she had a lot to learn about merchants and bartering. She nodded her head and agreed. "I'd like that, Charon. I'm thinking maybe we'll head back to Megaton in a few days. Since I'm already down this way, I have some more 'research' to do for Moira. She's the woman who's writing that survival guide. So I need to hit the Arlington Library and the old RobCo facility. But after that, I was planning on resting for a while back at home." She paused. "Home being Megaton, now." She thought for a moment. It had felt very odd to say that.

Eventually they both began to feel the effects of the day and agreed to try and sleep. As Charon laid his bedroll down on the cold metal floor, Fiona leapt up and went to her pack. She pulled out her own bedroll and tossed it to him. "Since I'm using the bed, you can at least double up on padding. I know those rolls are kinda thin." Before he had a chance to interject and tell her it wasn't necessary she quickly added "I insist! Use them both so you don't have a backache tomorrow. And get some sleep." She winked at him playfully. "Orders, mister!"

* * *

Fiona wasn't asleep. She was trying her best to relax but something was stuck in her mind. Ever since she'd purchased Charon's contract, she'd wanted to know the details of how he came to be "under contract." She knew she could order him to tell her the whole story but that didn't sit well with her. They were going to be traveling together and needed to build trust, so she was hoping that he'd open up given time. Now, she had at least one piece of information. His "training" as he had called it, had originated at The Institute in the Commonwealth… wherever that was. But so far, that's all the concrete information about his history she knew.

And something about his situation didn't seem right. Fiona had some psychological training while she was studying to be the vault's counselor. She was not an expert by any means but she knew about psychological and behavioral conditioning, or "brainwashing" as it was commonly known.

Under normal circumstances, the effects of "brainwashing" were short-lived at best, requiring constant reinforcement to maintain. In some cases, the reinforcement would come from one's social group or community. Like, for example, a vault. _Thank you, Overseer!_ she thought sarcastically in her mind. _You're born in the vault, you die in the vault .Yep! Makes total sense and I'm not going to question that assumption ever, because no one around me does and if I do I become socially ostracized! Hoo-ray!_ Less than two months on the surface, the insanity of vault life was as clear as day. But Charon had no such social group. As far as she knew, he did not have any other brainwashed "buddies" from the Institute that he… hung out with. There were no weekly card games in which they all got together and talked about how awesome it was to be a slave, reinforcing the training.

Barring social reinforcement, a person would need to be "re-trained" periodically to maintain this kind of conditioning. The human mind is too elastic to stay brainwashed on its own, no matter how thorough the original training was. Ahzrukhal had even admitted that he had no idea what Charon's conditioning had involved, so he'd not gotten any re-training from Ahzrukhal. It had to have been at least 50 years since Charon could have received formal reinforcement for his conditioning. Possibly, it had been much longer than that.

Also, the goal of this level of brainwashing is to change behavior by changing the individuals underlying belief system. Charon had blown Ahzrukhal's head off the instant he'd had the chance. Charon had spent 50 years wanting to kill that bastard but unable to act on those feelings… why? A simple piece of paper? He clearly had his own thoughts and feelings the entire time, unexpressed though they were. Ahzrukhal had even mentioned that Charon had an "annoying sense of morality" which he was unable to act upon while under his employ. So, given what she assumed was a normal degree of intelligence and freedom of thought on Charon's part, why was a token symbol like that contract powerful enough to control his physical behavior in total defiance of his mind's wants and needs?

_None of this adds up, _she thought as she drifted off.

His employer had finally fallen asleep. She'd been laying on her side with her eyes closed for almost half an hour before her breathing changed to a slow deep rhythm that indicated she had finally drifted off. He wasn't sure why it had taken her so long but he felt more relaxed once he was the only one awake. It was as close as he could get to being alone and Charon had many things to consider.

Fiona was continuing to surprise and confuse him. She was very strange. She was going out of her way for people and causes for which she had no direct connection and would see relatively little benefit. But she wasn't all smiles and naiveté either, he was beginning to see. She was growing a little bit of spine. Good. She'd need it in order to survive out here.

Charon was not accustomed to being defended, either. She'd done so twice that day. First was when he was busy having his bones rearranged. He'd barely registered the movement at the time, but he had seen her fling herself at the android in his defense. Madness! He had no idea what she was hoping to do that he could not. Then when that doctor had brushed him off, Fiona made it clear how she felt about his refusal to treat a ghoul, certainly knowing it would not change the man's decision. At first, he thought her outrage stemmed from her own reluctance to touch him but it turned out not to be the case. She was genuinely offended for him. Granted, Charon could have done without the comment about his abs. That little remark had been… unexpected. Most smoothskins were too disgusted by ghoul flesh to notice any other details about them. So at least now he knew his new employer was genuinely unprejudiced… and perhaps a little too curious judging by how intensely she had stared at him.

Then his thoughts turned to Zimmer and his mood darkened. He should have known Zimmer was from The Institute as soon as he heard him talking to Dr. Li. Charon had not seen anyone from the Commonwealth in almost 190 years, but if anyone would have developed androids in the intervening years, it would be those whack jobs at the Institute. Charon shut down that line of thinking before it traveled too far into the past. He wasn't going to think about that place now.

Right now, his priority had to be keeping Fiona safe from Zimmer in case there was more to his expedition than searching for a missing android. If felt differnt, having an employer he actually _wanted_ to keep out of harms way. With Ahzrukhal, it had been a nightmare: blocking attackers and taking bullets for that slimy bastard while his mind raged to just sit back and let him get killed. When he'd reacted automatically to stop Zimmer from grabbing at Fiona, it felt right. He could get used to that.

Focusing on business, Charon replayed the fight with the synthetic man in his head. Had he known what Armitage was, he'd have never tried to take him on in hand-to-hand combat. Or, if forced to fight without weapons, he'd have used a dramatically different strategy. _I'm so stupid, _he thought to himself. _I should have known what he was the _instant_ that solar plexus punch had no effect. Even a Super Mutant would have winced from a hit like that. _Not wanting to be unprepared again, Charon began analyzing his opponent's moves in his head, his strengths and possible weaknesses. He'd need to have a good plan of attack in case of a future hostile encounter with Zimmer.

After nearly an hour of strategizing, Charon began to feel tired. Normally, he would not allow himself to sleep while he was guarding an employer, but she did order him to rest. He rolled onto his side, inhaling deeply and breathing out a sigh. A pleasant scent hit him as he did. It was then he remembered Fiona's bedroll was on top of his. His face was pressed against it, and it smelled like her. As he drifted off, he remembered what she'd said to him before being interrupted by that railroad woman. _"Don't worry Charon. The only way I give up your contract is if _you_ want me to."_ Charon tried to imagine a situation in which he would want her give up his contract to someone else. As he faded into black, he could think of none.


	11. Chapter 11: Missinformation

**Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone who's been reading and following along with Fiona's journey! The story has received over 350 separate visits, not just page views, since I published a few weeks ago. If you are enjoying the story, please feel free to leave a review. And select Follow at the bottom to get email alerts when I post a new chapter.

I know the first several chapters or so of the story are a little slow-moving as I develop characters and build relationships. But as the plot progresses, things will get a bit more serious and on occasion… pretty dark. So hang in there, folks.

* * *

Fiona had slept surprisingly well considering she was in a basement that had been inhabited by Super Mutants less than 12 hours ago. As she rose to slowly stretch her tired muscles, Charon's eyes shot open. She wondered if he had been awake already or if he really was such a light sleeper.

"Good morning," she said sleepily, raising her arms over her head to stretch her shoulders. As she did so, her nostrils were flooded with a gamey stench emanating from her undershirt. Everyone in the wasteland smelled. Showers were a luxury. But Fiona had not yet grown accustomed to smelling her own natural odors. "Ugh. I smell so bad. Charon, I'm going to go see if the shower we saw a few halls over is working." He nodded his acknowledgment and followed her into the corridors, disarming their traps as they went.

Fiona found that the rusty shower head in the tiny bathroom did indeed work, though the water that spewed forth was irradiated and slightly dirty. When it still had not changed temperature after a few minutes of letting it run, she gave up on the slim hope of a functional water heater in the building. Still, she was pleased just to have an opportunity to rinse off the grime and sweat from the last few weeks.

Charon was standing guard in the hall with his back against the near wall. She felt a little awkward at first, getting undressed with a man standing just outside the door. But her desire to be clean easily won out over old habits of modesty. Stripping out of her leather armor and the t-shirt and underwear she had beneath it, Fiona stepped quickly into the cold spray. She inhaled sharply in shock and spat out a few expletives as the icy water hit her warm skin.

Charon reflexively spun to the doorway to see what was wrong, shotgun at the ready. Fiona was squeezing her eyes shut against the icy onslaught and muttering curses as she tried to adjust to the temperature and rinse herself as quickly as possible. It took a few seconds for Charon to realize that nothing was actually wrong… at which point Fiona opened her eyes.

"Fuck! Charon! What the hell?!"

He spun around immediately. It had been countless years since he had last experienced true embarrassment. If he were capable of blushing, he would have been beet red. "I… you sounded distressed" he said, his back to her. "I did not intend…" Charon had rarely had the opportunity to speak freely in the last half century, but whenever he did he was never ever at a loss for words. But words were failing him right now.

Fiona interrupted, too flustered to even listen. "Ohmygod, just… stay there" she said in a panicky tone. She finished her frigid shower as quickly as she could and dried off with her dirty undershirt. Redressing in her armor, which now felt tight and sticky against her damp skin, she threw the wet undershirt over her shoulder and left the bathroom. Turning to face Charon she said simply "The water was freezing."

They looked at each other for an awkward moment before Charon spoke. "You screamed, and I turned around on impulse. I did _not_ want to see you… undressed." It wasn't a lie, technically. He _hadn't_ spun around wanting to see her naked. But once had… well, The Institute had taken a great many things from him, but he was still, beneath it all, a man. He may not have the degree of free will that other men have, he may be bound to obey anyone holding his contract, but he was still a man. And it had been a very long time since he had been able to enjoy the sight of a female body, especially one as smooth and perfect as the one he'd just seen. She had no blemishes or scarring, though enough time in wasteland would surely see to that. Her skin was pale and looked like silk. And, best of all, she actually had some slight curves. It was rare in the wasteland to achieve that old-world body type of being slender yet still having curves in the right places. Luckily, Charon had only seen her for a few seconds and the sheer embarrassment had kept him from getting too… interested.

Sighing, Fiona finally spoke. "Don't worry about it. I just reacted impulsively too," Fiona reassured him. "I was startled but I'm not mad. I mean, hell, we're going to be traveling together for a while…for years…" the concept still hit her hard and she internally scolded herself for having purchased his contract without fully understanding the ramifications. But she continued. "Well, I guess what I mean is that it was bound to happen eventually and there's no use in being shy or getting hung up on it. So I'm over it. So long as you don't turn into some kind of peeping Tom," she joked, with a trace of sincerity.

"You do not have to worry," Charon said with complete seriousness. "I am _not_ a voyeur and have no desire to repeat this… incident." Again, a technical truth. He did not want a repeat of the embarrassment or to upset his employer again. He rather liked her company and that was worth far more than a quick thrill.

Knowing he was, by contract, not capable of lying to her, she relaxed. "Good." Fiona smiled. "Shower is yours if you want it."

Charon was not one for regular showers, having lived in the wasteland since its inception. He'd long since forgotten what is was like to feel clean more than a handful of times a year. But, perhaps his employer was giving him a polite hint. He probably did smell. Nodding, he went into the bathroom and Fiona stepped outside the door, her back against the wall.

She heard the water running in the mildewed bathroom, noting that Charon did not yelp like a little girl under the cold spray. She felt embarrassed for screeching like that. As she leaned her head, with hair still wet, against the cool metal wall she thought about what Charon had said: I did _not_ want to see you… undressed.

That statement should have been reassuring but somehow it came off as a bit… insulting. Did he mean he hadn't intended to seem like a pervert or did he mean that statement literally? Did he really _not_ want to see her? Fiona had never considered herself a knock-out but she knew she was attractive enough. That Charon had "no desire to repeat this incident" was exactly what he should have said and what she should have been relieved to hear him say. But the way the statement was phrased had come off as a little offensive.

Maybe it was a ghoul thing. Maybe they lost those urges or maybe… _Oh shit, maybe their junk falls off like their noses! Wait… no. Because I'm pretty sure there's a distinctly male bulge in his leather pants. _Fiona stopped that train of thought the second it pulled up to the station._ No! Don't think about bulges. _Fiona had not had any sexual intimacy since she'd broken up with Freddie Gomez last year and perhaps, she thought, she was more frustrated than she'd realized.

After they were packed and ready to head out to the Arlington Library, Fiona found an old ruined book with some pages still light enough to be written upon. Finding a wooden box and breaking off a small piece from the side, she stuck the corner of the wooden strip in the flame of the burning barrel, blackening it enough to create a makeshift pencil. It wouldn't write very well, but it would have to do. Fiona thought for a moment, then composed the note to her father:

DAD,

Got kicked out of 101. Overseer is a crazy fuck. Been trying to find you. Stay in one place! I'm doing ok. Got a lot to learn about the wastes. Wish I had someone to show me the ropes! Yes, that was aimed you.

Not traveling alone though. Hired a bodyguard. He's teaching me combat and survival skills.

Coming back here in two weeks to find you. Don't leave again! I am worried about you, and also pissed off. We need to talk.

Fi

Sep-28-77

P.S. Sorry about all the dead Super Mutants.

P.P.S Super Mutants are really really dumb.

Leaving the note on his nightstand, pinned under the bottle of scotch he'd left behind, they were ready to hit the wasteland once again.

* * *

Outside, the sun was just rising. It was still something Fiona liked to watch whenever she had the chance. Since the immediate area was clear, she stood silently and smiled as the glowing orb peeked over the horizon. As it colored the sky orange and yellow she watched the sun gently cast the area in a hazy glow, birthing long lazy shadows behind each object it touched.

"No matter how long I live up here," she said turning to Charon "I'll never get tired of seeing this." It was in moments like this that all of the hurt, confusion and and anger of the last two months seemed to dissolve away. For all the hardship and horror the wasteland had to dish out, it was at least bathed in light. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Fiona staring at the sun and Charon fascinated by how incredible something as common as a sunrise could seem through her eyes. Eventually, Fiona snapped out of her daze and continued walking.

There were two possible ways to get to Arlington Library from the Jefferson Memorial. The shortest way was across the river. However, that would require swimming, getting their supplies wet, and possibly running into mirelurks in their natural habitat. The alternative was to go back up the bank of the river, over the bridge just north of Wilhelm's Wharf, then back down the river on the other side. A major pain in the ass. Suddenly, a memory surfaced. The last time she was at Wilhelm's Wharf, resting and chatting with Grandma Sparkle, she'd seen several sunken boats near the old dock. Most were no longer usable but one or two simply looked like they'd capsized.

She and Charon made the trek north and across to the shack inhabited by the old woman. Grandma Sparkle waved hello to them but otherwise left Fiona and Charon to their business. Identifying a small aluminum boat as still in good condition, she and Charon were able to haul it from the river. It took a few hours but they were able to scrape the barnacles from the hull and empty it of river mud so that it would float once again. While it would not save them a significant amount of time getting to Arlington on this trip, the trip back across the river would now be much easier.

Using two planks of wood as paddles, they traveled downriver smoothly. About half way through the trip, Fiona began to giggle. Charon gave her an inquisitive look. "Hey, I just thought of something kinda finny," she said.

"Oh?" Charon responded.

"Yeah, it's just… your name… Charon. It's from Greek mythology. The Ferryman of the Dead."

"Yes, I am aware of the origins of my name." Despite the terse reply, Charon did not sound irritated. Just very matter-of-fact.

"Well, here you are. Ferrying me down a river."

He did smirk a bit at the comparison. "This is the Potomac, smoothskin. Not the River Styx."

"It'd better not be. I don't have any silver coins to pay you with. Unless you'd accept bottle caps."

Charon, not quite laughing but with a tone more lighthearted than she'd yet to hear replied "If I had a bottle cap for every person I have sent into the underworld… I'd be as rich as that Tenpenny guy."

They were both smirking now, as they approached their destination. Dragging the boat just barely out of the river, they tipped it and forced some water to fill it. Charon placed several large rocks inside, weighing it down. At a glance, it now looked like a sunken boat and passersby would surely assume it to be worthless. However, when they returned, they would be able to drag it back up, dump the water, remove the rocks and paddle across the Potomac. Satisfied, they carefully made their way to the Arlington Library, keeping their eyes open for raiders and mutants.

The building itself was in decent condition. Fiona marveled at the way some buildings were able to survive the bombs so well while others had crumbled into ashes. Pushing open the heavy doors of the Library, Charon and Fiona entered the dimly lit interior.

"Halt!" "Stay where you are!" "Hands where I can see them!"

Fiona was deafened by the sound of multiple male voices shouting all at once. Charon reached for his shotgun by instinct but stopped when a laser rifle swung towards his face. Fearing for his safety, Fiona raised her hands high in the air and stepped in front of Charon. In the dim light she could make out the power armor the soldiers wore. _Great, more Brotherhood._ "It's ok!" She shouted, trying to draw attention to her and away from Charon. If these guys were as "friendly" as the ones outside Underworld, they might shoot Charon just for having reached for his weapon, but would be far less likely to shoot her. "We're not hostile. We're just here to explore and scav. Don't shoot!"

A woman with blonde hair and wearing red robes stepped forward. She raised a lamp to get a better look at the two of them and gasped when she saw Charon. "Shit," she yelped, "it's one of those ghoul things!" The soldier nearest him tightened his grip on his rifle and Charon began analyzing his situation. There were only three soldiers and the woman, though armed, was clearly was not a fighter. He _could_ take all of them with minimal damage to himself, but he needed to keep Fiona safe as well. Before he could finalize his plan, Fiona spoke again.

"He's not feral. Don't shoot him!" she yelled with panic in her voice. She backed up flush against his chest as if to shield him. "He's with me and like I said we're not here to cause trouble."

The woman approached them. "Do you have it under control? Is it trained?"

"Oh for the love of… _he_ has a name and he's _trained_ in armed combat and hand-to-hand ass kicking, if that's what you mean" Fiona replied.

The woman waved her hands for the men to stand down, and they returned to their posts in the corners of the room. "Why are you here, civilian?"

As tempted as she was to spit out a snarky comment, Fiona reigned in her temper and tried to play nice. "I'm here because I'm interested in gathering information. I was hoping the old card catalog was still accessible and, with some luck, maybe the computer archives too."

This took the robed woman by surprise. She relaxed slightly and introduced herself. "I am Scribe Yearling, part of the Order of the Quill in the Brotherhood of Steel. We're currently occupying this facility to do exactly what you described. I've got the card catalog accessible via the terminal up front but the archives…" she paused, looking the two of the up and down. "Well perhaps you can help us with that."

_Damn it, _Fiona thought. _I'm about to get sucked into doing some stupid favor for a bunch of ungrateful racists. _

"As far as we can tell, the archives are only accessible through a terminal further into the building. However, there is a large gang of raiders occupying the rest of the Library and our soldiers are having trouble finding them all." Yearling paused, then continued. "If you were to help eradicate them, you could get to the archives and in return I would be prepared to buy any pre-war books you find that are still in good condition."

Fiona knew that all she really _had_ to do for Moira was get a copy of the card catalog. Getting to the archives was preferable but optional. However, Fiona realized, access to the archives would also be beneficial for her personally. If she were lucky, she could find and download old psychological journals, text books and case studies to her Pip Boy. If she knew more about what sorts of behavioral research and experiments were being performed before the Great War, she might be able to better understand Charon's situation. Curiosity was one of her greatest weaknesses. Still, she didn't want to seem too eager to go blasting through the building to root out the old archive terminal.

"How do I know there are even any books in good condition still left back there? And if I found some… how many caps are we talking about?" Fiona feigned reluctance.

Scribe Yearling sighed, and thought for a moment. "I don't know how many are in there, but there are bound to be at least a few that survived. And you have to get to the archives anyway right?"

"No," Fiona said bluntly, "I was _interested_ in getting to the archives. I don't _have_ to get to them, especially if it's going to be a pain in the ass."

"Fine." Yearling relented. "Help us clear the building and I'll give you 100 caps for every pre-war book you find back there."

"Make it 100 caps for every pre-war book I find, period. In here, out in the wastes, any time. Whenever I find one in good condition I want to be able to sell it to you for 100 caps." Fiona had her bargaining face on. "It works for the both of us. I get caps and you get someone scouring the wastes and bringing you a steady supply of old world knowledge. Deal?"

The scribe almost looked like she was going to decline, but sighed and agreed. "Fine. Deal. There are a few of our soldiers down that hall towards the back. Go assist them in clearing the building."

Smiling triumphantly, Fiona said "Nice doing business with you, Scribe Yearling."

They headed down the hall, approaching a pair of Brotherhood soldiers who were nervously waiting just outside a doorway. Fiona noticed that Charon had a deep scowl on his face. "Are you ok?" she whispered.

Grumbling under his breath, barely audible he said "Is _it_ trained? Seriously?"

"Yeah, she was bitch. I'm sorry she spoke to you like that."

"Oh, I'll show her how _I'm_ trained." Something in Charon was definitely darker than a few minutes ago.

As they reached the pair of nervous soldiers, the two armored men looked curiously at each other, clearly wondering who the hell they were. Fiona was certain that an Asian teenager and a giant ghoul were probably the last two people they expected to see walking down their hall. One of the men stepped forward and asked, without much force behind his voice "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Before Fiona had an opportunity to introduce herself to the them, it was Charon who spoke up. Loudly.

"SUPPOSEDLY," he bellowed in his deep and graveled voice, startling the two young soldiers "these two suits of power armor have _men_ inside of them." He stopped dead in his tracks in front of the two suited soldiers, towering nearly a foot over their heads. "But I cannot help but be skeptical. _Men_ would be able to handle a few piddly raiders. So, since you _boys_ need the assistance, my employer and I have been asked to help you."

The two soldiers stood stock still and silent. Despite her own shock at his outburst, Fiona was grinning like an idiot. She knew Charon had plenty of aggression in him. But he'd never expressed it like this. That comment from the Scribe must have _really_ pissed him off. Even though she was nervous about facing down an unknown number of raiders, the mission was beginning on a positive note. Charon continued.

"We're going to sweep room by room. Be as quiet in those tin suits as you can. We want to take the hostiles by surprise whenever possible. After every room is cleared, one of you will search the entire area for books that are still in good condition and hand them over to Fiona." Charon motioned to her. "I know part of your mission here is to collect pre-war books for the Brotherhood on your own. But since you have been unable to clear out the raiders, that mission objective is now _ours._ Understood?"

Fiona wished she could see their faces under those helmets. But their silence said it all.

"I said… UNDERSTOOD?!"

"Ye…Yes… sir?" one of the young men responded.

"Good. We move forward in pairs. Fiona is a civilian so you _will_ provide her extra protection and cover at all times. She will not receive any injuries of any kind. Understood?"

"Yes, sir?" said the other young soldier, sounding very confused through the tinny voicemitter in his helmet.

Charon turned to Fiona, his face a bit softer now, and smirked. "Ok, remember what I taught you in the metros. You got Stimpaks?"

"Uh… yeah, I have about 12, I think" Fiona responded in a cheery daze.

"Good. Stay down as much as possible, but don't be afraid to take whatever shots you can if you have a clear line of sight. Raiders are smarter than Super Mutants… but not by much. And they go down a lot easier." Charon almost… almost… smiled.

With that, they were off.

oooooooooooo

Something snapped inside of Charon as he had stood silently behind Fiona while that Brotherhood bitch insulted him. He had always taken insults with ease. It had been a long time since slurs and jabs had penetrated his thick, metaphorical, skin. However, something was different today. His employer stood up for him readily, as she had done in the past, and while it was appreciated it was also a bit… emasculating. He hadn't felt like that yesterday at the clinic. But today his reaction to her defense of him had been different for some reason. And when that bitch had called him "it" and talked about him like he was an animal _in front of Fiona_… well, he'd felt like he had something to prove after that. And proving it, he was.

As they moved through the rooms and halls of the library, sweeping and shooting, Charon tried to keep his mind focused on the present. The two tin soldiers trailing behind him were doing a decent job of keeping up and covering Fiona. He could tell they had received good combat training, but were lacking confidence. If that blonde bigot was the one in charge here, their prior incompetence was probably due to a lack of strong leadership.

Fiona was slowly gaining confidence in combat. Though she still had a lot to learn, she was dedicated to improving. She was sticking to cover, as she'd been told to do, but had taken down several raiders on her own with surprise attacks. After each one she'd look to him, smiling wide, and he'd nod his approval.

They were making short work of the disorganized and likely intoxicated raiders, and had found several intact books along the way. Finally, they reached the room where the archive terminal was located. It looked like a make-shift fort, with stacked shelves and barbed wire to keep someone from barging straight in. Charon swung around the corner first, blasting one raider square in the chest. Another at his 10 o'clock fell with the rat-a-tat-tat of Fiona's SMG. The two Brotherhood soldiers took out a third hostile and the building was finally cleared.

Charon turned to his temporary comrades. "Good work. You're not as incompetent as that scribe said you were. Not that someone from the _Quill_ would recognize battle skill…" It was a stab in the dark, but when Yearling mentioned the 'Order of the Quill', Charon guessed the Brotherhood operated like many pre-war military organizations, with different departments dedicated to different goals. There had been inter-departmental rivalries 200 years ago and there would be now. People hadn't changed. He appeared to have been correct when the two young men gave pleased sounds through their voicemitters.

"Yes, sir!" one of them said, with enthusiasm for the first time, followed with a second "Yes, sir!" from his partner.

Charon continued. "Now, Fiona has some archives to sort through. While we are busy here, the two of you will go back through each room we cleared and double check it for any books we may have missed. Return here when you're finished."

The two hurried down the hall and out of sight. Charon was actually proud of himself. It had taken some damage to his male pride, something he had forgotten he even possessed, but he was able to resurrect a part of himself from 200 years ago, if only for an hour. He wasn't fooling himself though. That man was dead. He died in the bombs. But it was good to know that he could play the role again if need be.

Charon stood in the doorway, alert and watching for any signs of trouble while Fiona tapped away on the terminal, downloading whatever data she'd been sent here for by that "Moira" woman. After several minutes, the two soldiers scurried back, having retrieved two more books. He nodded firmly and dismissed them as Fiona finished her download. In total they had collected 10 pre-war books. If the scribe kept her promise his employer would now be 1,000 caps richer.

Fiona stepped up behind him smiling. "I got what I needed. They find anything else?" He handed her the new books and she smiled. "Pay day! Let's go get our caps and get out of here!"

As they walked the halls together, he noticed she kept looking up at him and smiling. Finally, he had to ask. "You look… pleased?"

"You should do 'army guy' more often" she said with a grin.

"Oh?"

"Yea, I mean… it worked. But, what brought that on? Was it that scribe?"

He nodded. "I normally don't let those comments bother me. I am not sure why it got to me today. I apologize if I was out of place in commanding the soldiers."

"God, no! It was awesome! I couldn't have done that." Fiona paused for a moment. "Charon, you can be assertive and stick up for yourself whenever you want to."

Charon hated that the scribe had gotten to him. But he nodded. "I don't like being talked about like an object or an animal…" he trailed off softly.

Fiona gave him a warm smile. "I don't blame you. But hey, if it makes you feel better, that Yearling bitch owes us a _thousand_ caps!"

Oddly enough… it did make him feel better.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note:** I debated on whether or not to make Yearling as bitchy as I did. During my play through she was never that bad to me, unless you said anything negative about the BoS, in which case she shuts you down totally. But in Broken Steel it's implied she has some Outcast sympathies, so I went in that direction. Charon needed someone to provide the insult that gave him his spark back anyway. Hope you enjoyed.


	12. Chapter 12: Dinner And A Movie

**Author's Note:** This chapter contains attempted non-con. You've been warned.

* * *

Fiona took her time carefully stacking and wrapping her newly acquired fortune into rolls. With all of the ruined books in the library, there was no shortage of paper. "Damn," she said, turning to Charon "I'm going to run out of room in my my pack for all these caps." She was grinning wildly, clearly satisfied with their spoils. Charon knelt on the floor, carefully counting and helping his employer pack away her money. Scribe Yearling had counted out the caps slowly and with great reluctance when she paid up for the books. It was clear that she was parting with more money than she's anticipated.

With their business concluded, Fiona and Charon departed the dimly lit library, Fiona waving a mockingly cheerful goodbye to Scribe Yearling. "Ok, Charon" she said, peering at her Pip Boy map, "next stop is the RobCo building. Moira wants me to install a widget in the mainframe. It'll… do something. Tell her how they're controlled supposedly. Not that that crazy woman needs to be able to control a small robot army…"

The duo headed west towards their destination. Fiona couldn't help but smile as they walked. Her luck was turning around. While her first several weeks in the wasteland had been spent alone, barely surviving Moira's insane "research" for her book, the last few days had been significantly smoother. She knew she still had much to learn, but Fiona was confident that with Charon to help her, she would eventually be able to handle herself.

The trek westward was uneventful except for a few run-ins with Radscorpions. In the past, Fiona had always tried to sneak by the eight-legged monsters, or run like hell when that failed. But now, between her rifle and Charon's shotgun, they were able to fell the enormous arachnids before they got within stinging range. The toughest breed of Radscorpion, she had just learned, was the Giant Albino variety. They had run into one of them outside a tiny village to the northwest of the old Nuka-Cola factory. Two men were trying to hold off the stinging monstrosity as it closed in on one of their homes. Just as one of the men was about to be stung straight through the chest, Charon finished the Radscorpion with a blast to its thorax.

Fiona ran to check on the two men, Charon trailing just behind her. "Are you two ok?" she asked, breathing heavily from the scare.

Once she was close enough to see them in detail, she was surprised to find them wearing what appeared to be pre-war casual wear. A middle age man stooped slightly, catching his breath while his slightly younger counterpart stood with a grin so wide that Fiona couldn't help notice his perfectly white set of teeth. While pre-war clothing wasn't unheard of, she had never seen one worn outside of some kind of established settlement. Even then, they were still rare.

"Why thanks, young lady" the first man said. "You and your buddy there sure saved our skins! The misses sure would've been mad at me if I'd gotten myself killed. The name's Jack Smith" he said, grinning "and this is my brother Bill Wilson, but you can call him Willy."

"Nice to meet you!" the brother said extending his hand in a friendly shake.

Fiona took his hand after a moment of hesitation. He was very friendly and welcoming, but as Fiona felt her hand pumped vigorously up and down, she felt an undefined unease.

"You're welcome Mr. Smith, Mr. Wilson. Just trying to be a good… neighbor… I guess." Fiona laughed a little nervously.

"Well gosh, good neighbors are what this world needs. Not that we have any shortage of those around here" Mr. Smith said, beaming. Raising his arms and sweeping them over the layout of the street he said "Welcome to Andale! Why it's the best town in America!"

Following his gesture, Fiona's eyes landed on three pre-war houses that stood amongst the rubble of what had once probably been a suburban neighborhood.

"It does look very… peaceful." She said, politely. Again, something tickled the back of her mind, as if there was some strange noise barely at the edge of her hearing.

"It sure is!" Replied Wilson, nodding emphatically. He turned his head suddenly back towards Fiona as if an idea had just struck him. "Why, it isn't often we get visitors. Would you two folks like to join us for dinner?" His grin grew even wider as he waited for her answer.

As she looked into Wilson's grinning face, the sensation of strangeness felt even stronger. Everything about them both felt wrong, like looking through a camera that was slightly out of focus. One look at Charon and his body language told her that he felt exactly the same way. Fiona plastered a smile on her face that she didn't feel and forced congeniality into her voice.

"Gosh, that sounds really nice but we actually have somewhere to be. Maybe when we pass back through here in a few days we'll take you up on that though."

Mr. Wilson's smile wavered slightly. "Oh, that sounds perfect. The wife will just love that. It's been a while since she's had people to serve."

At this, the hair on the back of Fiona's neck stood up. Despite the warm sun beating down on her, she felt an icy chill down her back. "Ok, well, we'll be heading off now. You two stay safe…"

"We sure will. Can't wait to see you two folks again _real _soon." Mr. Smith and Wilson waved pleasantly as Fiona and Charon continued walking west.

As soon as they were over the next hill, Charon spoke up. "I did _not_ trust those two. Something felt…off. Everything there felt off."

"Yeah, I agree with you on that" Fiona said. "We are definitely _not_ passing through there again on our way back to Rivet City." She made a marker on her Pip Boy to represent Andale and assigned a small skull and crossbones icon to the spot. "There," she chirped proudly, "no confusing that with a friendly town now."

Despite the small detour, they were making good time. Fiona hoped to be at the RobCo facility in a few hours. There was no telling what was waiting for them inside, but they were both well-stocked with ammo and explosives. Not far from Andale, Fiona spotted something she thought she recognized from pre-war movies and books. There was a small concrete lot with about a dozen old cars scattered around and a giant blank board at one end.

"Is that an old drive-in theater?"

Charon paused and nodded. "Yes, there are a few of them still scattered around the wastes." Charon looked closer at the site in the distance. There were bodies wrapped in chains hanging from the old parking lot lights, a tell-tale sign of raiders. "We should keep moving. There appears to be a small raider camp up there."

Suddenly, they heard a burst of fire as if on cue. One of the raiders on watch had already spotted them. "This is gonna be fun!" she shouted into the distance, firing wildly and running at them at full speed. Charon shoved Fiona to the ground, smoothly aiming his combat shotgun in the same motion. His shotgun barked once and the raider tumbled to the ground in a heap. The remaining two men were maneuvering towards them through the lot of derelict cars. Charon turned to Fiona and in a calm, confident voice he said "Aim for the cars. Now."

They both dropped to one knee and unleashed a storm of lead at two of the broken-down cars. Fiona felt the assault rifle buck against her shoulder as she heard the pinging sound of the bullets punching through metal. There was a tremendous explosion as the cars went up in a mushroom cloud, taking the two raiders with them. Fiona's eyes went wide with wonder as the heat wave washed over them and she grinned wildly at Charon. Charon turned to his employer. "And that is why cars do not make good cover," he said with a smirk. The exploding cars had been overkill, but Fiona's reaction had been priceless.

A few days ago, Fiona would have been shaking but now she was starting to get used to the adrenaline and almost felt a bit high from the rush. They moved up the hill to search the raider camp for any goods they could use. Charon moved warily through the camp, eyes scanning. _This has got to be the cleanest raider camp ever. Haven't tripped over any empty booze bottles or jet inhalers. _As he continued to move through the site without encountering any empties whatsoever, he started to feel uneasy. _No food storage, very little ammo…no bunks._ Charon felt his stomach drop as it him. There were no beds. Which meant one thing…

"We should leave this place. I think there might be a-"

A shot rang out, and Charon fell.

* * *

The first shot took Fiona completely by surprise. She instinctively ducked behind a ruined car and reached for her SMG. She could hear Charon's shotgun firing a few meters away. As she looked for Charon, she spied a raider approaching her from around the corner of the car she was hiding behind. Shaking, she steadied her hand against the hood, raised her SMG and fired through the shell of the ruined car. The raider jerked from the impact of the SMG burst before falling to the ground.

"Well, look what we have here" a male voice from behind her spoke softly. As she turned to bring the SMG to bear on her unseen attacker, a sharp impact shuddered up her arm and her gun flew out of her hand. Her vision went white as pain exploded in the back of her head. She fell forward on her knees, spots dancing in her eyes. A sudden kick to the back, and Fiona was splayed on the ground, face down. She could still hear Charon's shotgun firing but she felt as if she was at the end of a long tunnel. She tried to call out to him when a kick to her midsection brought her up short. The dust in her eyes had her vision blocked with tears but she could make out a shadow looming over her. She sensed movement, then the world went dark.

* * *

The first shot hit Charon mid-thigh, causing him to stumble and fall. He spun over on to his back and raised the shotgun in the direction he had taken fire. The raider who had shot him had just enough time to look surprised before the shotgun blast punched into his stomach. The dirt kicked up all around him as he scrambled for cover. _So fucking stupid_, he screamed at himself. _I really have gone soft. Shoulda scouted the area. This wasn't their camp. It was a lookout point _for_ the fucking camp. And my stupid exploding car trick let everyone know that we were here. _

He heard Fiona's SMG firing somewhere behind him. Though the situation was grim, he smiled to himself. _She didn't panic. Maybe I'm rubbing off on her._ He shot across a gap between cars as he maneuvered to where he had heard Fiona's SMG. He could hear the angry buzzing of the bullets all around him as he moved. There was movement in the corner of his eye and he turned to blast another raider to his right. The attacker stopped abruptly, then lurched forward. Charon's shotgun roared twice more before he stopped moving.

"Umph!" His head snapped to his left when he heard Fiona's cry. _Shitshitshitshitshit. _Charon broke cover as he ran towards where he heard Fiona. Suddenly, he felt a hammer blow in his right shoulder and he felt his body twisting crazily off balance as he struggled to keep running. A hot poker stabbed at his side and he stumbled to his knees. His body felt like it weighed a ton as he tried to force his legs to obey him and stand up. He was halfway up when he heard the sound of thunder and he was pitching forward before he even felt the impact.

The raider approached Charon cautiously, kicking his shotgun away. Charon's body lay still. The raider poked him tentatively with the tip of his boot and when there was no movement, kicked him vigorously. He kicked Charon's body over on to his back and looked over his trophy with a satisfied grin. His grin suddenly turned into a rictus of surprise when he felt an iron hand grip his vest. The raider tried to swing his gun towards the ghoul but the gun suddenly felt heavy like it weighed a thousand pounds. When he looked down, he saw why. A knife was buried hilt-deep in his stomach by the ghoul he had thought dead. The ghoul pulled him down closer until he was looking into his grim eyes full of death. The raider felt a lurch and he knew without looking that the ghoul had drawn the knife across his stomach. As his vision turned black, he felt the world fall away and he knew no more.

Charon threw the body away to his side. He tried to stand up but his legs felt heavy and leaden. Charon looked around but could not see Fiona. There was a raider standing where he had heard her SMG firing, looking at the ground triumphantly. Charon reached for the rifle dropped by the gutted raider and leveled it at the other…

Another shot rang out and Charon slumped as he felt a bullet smack into his side. He felt his blood seeping into the earth as he struggled to move.

"Hey, Mick!" the female raider called out, moving out from behind the cover where she had taken her shot on Charon. "The shuffler's down. Whatcha got over there?"

"I got a pretty little thing over here. Dunno why she was traveling with a zombie but she is a fine piece of ass. I'm taking her back to the caves" Charon heard the man say.

"Yeah well, you know the rules. Benji gets first taste or he'll cut your nuts off" the woman replied.

"Eh, that selfish bastard… fine. He's hung like a ten year old anyway. He won't ruin her too bad."

Charon began to panic. His eyes searched for his gun but it had already been picked up by the raider, along with the rifle he had attempted to shoot. She also had Charon's pack slung over her back. He could see the male raider walk over to her side, carrying Fiona and her pack, one over each shoulder. Charon tried weakly to crawl, hands clawing at the earth as the pair walked casually away with his unconscious employer.

Glancing towards the struggling ghoul, the man asked "You gonna finish him off or what?"

"Naw, he's leaking like a sieve. He's good as dead in a few minutes" she replied. "And I'm almost outta ammo."

* * *

As Fiona began coming around, her senses were overloaded. She tasted blood in her mouth. She could smell the stench of a man's body odor invading her nostrils. She heard the distinct sound of a metal gate opening and locking shut with a clank. Opening her eyes, her blurry vision could make out the ground moving past her, and the back of the raider who'd taken her by surprise. She tried to reach out but her arms wouldn't move. Her hands felt numb, tied behind her back. She could feel a large hand gripping her backside, squeezing roughly every few seconds.

As the confusion wore off, panic set in. She had been captured. But what had happened to Charon? Straining, she tried to get a look around her through the veil of her hair. She was being carried through a cave with other raiders. As they passed what looked like a bunk area, a few of the men jumped up. Unsure of what to do, Fiona feigned unconsciousness again. _Stay calm,_ she told herself. _I have to think. If they have Charon too, we can plan an escape. Just don't lose your cool…_

"Mick! Hey man, you bring me a present? How'd you know it's my fuckin' birthday?" one raider called out.

"Fuck off, Carl. You'll get your turn. You know how Benji is about sloppy seconds."

The raider carrying her began groping her ass possessively now. It took all of Fiona's will power not to start screaming and squirming. _Just stay calm,_ she repeated to herself. _Hopefully they'll put me down somewhere alone if they think I'm out cold. Then I can work on escaping. _No one was mentioning anything about a giant ghoul, which meant Charon wasn't here. Fiona didn't even want to think about what that meant.

"Man, Benji's all the way in the back sleeping off his bender. He won't know. We can share. We'll be _quiet_…" the raider pleaded like a child begging for candy.

The man carrying her, Mick, sighed deeply. From the movement in his shoulders Fiona could tell he seemed to be looking around. The gravity of her situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Surely they weren't talking about… She felt Mick take a few steps forward and she was dropped unceremoniously onto a mattress.

Fiona felt someone brush the hair out of her face. "Whoa. God damn. Where'd you find _her_?"

"Out by the drive-in. Walking around with some big ass shuffler."

A hand moved over her face, in an creepy imitation of a lover's caress.

"You buy her from him? She could be some of Jones' top shelf shit."

The hand moved lower, down her neck, tracing the edge of her collarbone. Despite Fiona's vow to "play dead", she wasn't going to last much longer if that hand moved one inch lower.

"Naw, blasted the zombie and knocked her out. Though she'd sell for a ton of caps, you're right."

_Blasted him? What does that mean? He isn't… He can't be._ Her plan of pretending to be unconscious went out the window the instant she felt someone tear open the front of her leather armor. Fiona's eyes shot open and saw her surroundings clearly for the first time. Four men. One bald, shirtless raider with several scars on his face was sitting on the edge of the dirty mattress. Three more stood around him, watching. In the far corner there was a woman smoking casually as if this were any other day. Her indifferent expression read clearly: better her than me.

Fiona had used her undershirt as a towel that morning and had not yet taken it out of her pack to dry. So she wore nothing underneath the leather jacket. It took the men a few moments to see her opened eyes, as theirs had been elsewhere. The raider on the mattress saw that she was awake and moved to straddle her, pinning her hips under his weight. "Hey, baby," he said, his voice suddenly lowered to a gentle whisper, hands trailing from her abdomen up to her breasts. "I'm Carl. What's your name?" Fiona gave no answer, eyes darting around wildly trying to find something, anything she could use to escape. But with her hands bound behind her back and her hips pinned under the weight of a grown man, she could do little more than kick her feet futilely. "Mmm, that's ok. You're shy, I get it." Almost as scary as his actions were the utter lack of sarcasm or malice in his voice. He sounded like he was trying to coax a reluctant girl to dance, instead of a molesting a helpless captive.

Carl moved one hand to her face and repeated the caress she'd felt earlier while the other remained occupied with gently fondling her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb. Her heart was beating a mile a minute and her adrenaline was pumping but she was totally frozen. Screaming would do no good. It might even turn on the sick bastards. She could see the other men standing around, watching her with a wild hunger in their eyes. They had begun to crowd around the bed and she could felt the weight of their stares closing in on her like the bars of a cage. There was a quiet stillness to them but she could see some of them licking their lips unconsciously. But "Carl" was taking his time.

"You're so pretty" he whispered with sickening sincerity. "And clean. You take a bath for me, baby?" His head bent down to her unoccupied breast, taking the shy nipple in his mouth and began suckling. Hard. Fiona let out a hiss of pain, making the man pause for a moment. He resumed his actions, this time a tiny bit gentler but far from comfortable. Pausing his suction for a moment he said "Ya know, a lot of guys like big tits, but I gotta disagree." Carl's gentle caresses began to grow rougher. "I think smaller ones are fun. They're perky." He leaned down to suck hard on her nipple again. While his hands and mouth were occupied, he moved his hips lower, pinning her legs and began slowly grinding against her inner thigh. Fiona heard a strange sound, like a small injured animal. It took a moment for her to realize the whimpering was coming from her.

Each second felt like an hour. Fiona tried to imagine that she was somewhere else, anywhere else. But every time she was able to drift away, the raider atop her would moan and make some sort of comment, snapping her back to terrible reality. "Mmmm, you smell good" "You're so soft" "Damn. I wish I could keep you for myself…" _Charon,_ she thought as her tears began to flow, _ Where are you? You can't be dead. Please don't be dead. _

Once Carl was finished kneading and sucking her sore flesh, he sat back and looked happily at his work, still grinding against her thigh. Her right nipple was turning purple from his hard suckling and the left breast would probably bruise. His silent appreciation was interrupted by Mick.

"God damn it, Carl. Are you gonna tease her all day or are the rest of us gonna get a turn? I found her ya' know."

"Fuck you, man." Carl spat back. "She's really pretty. I wanna remember this. Plus, I was tryin' to warm her up." He glanced back at Fiona and whispered. "Listen, baby. It goes a lot easier if you can get into it. I always try make girl hot first so she can enjoy it too." He said the last sentence with total sincerity, like he expected her gratitude.

Turning back to the other raider, he continued. "Besides, it's _my_ fuckin' birthday" he spat. "And you weren't even gonna have a go at all a few minutes ago. You were gonna hand her off to Benji like a good little bitch."

"Watch your mouth Carl!" Mick growled. "And I _was_ gonna have a go at her, _after_ Benji. Now I'm supposed to wait 'til after _you_? You don't run this gang."

"Neither do you!" Carl snapped back, now sitting up on his knees, but still pinning Fiona beneath him.

"Move." Mick said with deadly seriousness. "Your five minutes are up."

"No!" Carl exclaimed, peevishly. " You never said anything about five minutes. I want first. I'm already on her… and and… she likes me and… it's my…"

"And it ain't your fuckin' birthday either, so cut the bullshit and move!" Mick took another step forward.

"Yea it is!"

"Oh yea? What day is today?"

Carl paused for a moment. "It's… it's Thursday."

"You dumb shit. I'm gonna snap your skinny neck." Mick moved forward as if he were going to follow through on the threat.

Carl jumped up, meeting Mick face to face. "I'd like to see you try."

As the two leapt at each other, the cave exploded into a maelstrom of noise. Carl and Mick began throwing punches and kicks as the other raiders cheered them on and laughed. It took several seconds for Fiona to snap out of her shock enough to realize this may be her only chance at escape. She sat up on the mattress and looked around frantically. There were two possible exits she could see from the cavern they were currently in. She had not been able to see her full surroundings when she was brought in and she was disoriented. Panicking, she rolled off the mattress and onto her knees. Standing awkwardly with her hands still bound behind her, she darted around a corner to the right running as fast as she could, trying not to scream or cry. She hurried through the dimly lit tunnel hoping with all her might that she had chosen the correct exit.


	13. Chapter 13: Snapped

**Author's Note:** Warning from Chapter 12 still applies. Attempted non-con.

* * *

If Charon had the strength, he would have beat his head against the burnt-out car. The image of Fiona being carried away kept playing over and over in his head and his face burned hot with shame._ Stupid. Stupid. STUPID! _As he laid his bulk against the broken atomic engine block, he could feel tickle of the weak, healing warmth of the residual radiation. _At this rate, I should be in shape to rescue Fiona in about… a week._ No stims, no irradiated water, no nothing. The raiders had taken everything when they left.

_Think,_ he thought angrily to himself. _This isn't their camp but if they had three guys stationed here they must have kept some basic supplies around. _With great effort, Charon propped himself up into a sitting position. Even the slightest movement bathed his body in pain. Wincing, he looked around the old drive-in only to see nothing but than rubble and destroyed cars. Suddenly, he noticed some of the rubble was in fact the remains of the old projector booth. The concrete riser would be a natural location to store food and supplies.

Summoning all of his strength, Charon turned his body over until he slid off of the hulk of the wrecked car. He hit the ground in a graceless sprawl and the pain from the impact drove the air from his lungs in a wordless scream. It seemed like minutes passed before the pain grew tolerable enough for him to move. Charon began to drag his body slowly over to the remnants of the projection room. Each meter he covered felt like a mile. But relentlessly, he kept moving. His entire world was reduced to the few feet of earth in front of his eyes as his hands clawed at the ground. Every minute he wasted meant a worse fate for Fiona, and he had no idea how much time he had already wasted helplessly soaking up rads just to keep from bleeding to death. _There's a chance they've already…_ he couldn't continue that thought as unbidden images flashed in his mind.

_She's no more than sixteen. Her skin coated in a sheen of sweat and her dark eyes are filled with fear. Just a minute ago she was talking calmly and then…then _he_ came. There's no talking now. Only pleading, begging, crying. Charon tries to stop him, wants to help her, but he is overpowered. Helpless. Charon screams curses, threats, even joins in her begging. _

_To no effect. _

With a grimace, Charon forced the memory into the back of his mind. He finally reached the remains of what was once the front of the booth. The remains of the wall was only 4 ft high but in his condition, it might as well have been 400 ft. Looking up helplessly, the frustration overwhelmed him for a moment and his fatigue seemed to pin him to the ground.

_Fiona. _In his mind's eye, he saw her being carried away again. Anger filled him and new-found strength surged into his body. He began to crawl around the side to where the back of the booth had once been. Relief washed over him in cool wave when he saw that the structure was open at that side.

Picking up speed, Charon dragged himself inside the old room and saw exactly what he had hoped to see: a first aid kit lying on its side in the corner. When he crawled up to the the kit, he held his breath as he opened the box. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was fully stocked. _Thank God most raiders are junkies. _While it only contained three Stimpaks, it was overflowing with Med-X, Psycho, Jet and Buffout. Charon was not a chem user, but he would shoot up every drug in the wasteland if it would get him on his feet long enough to get to Fiona.

He prepped the first Stimpak and gritting his teeth, plunged it into his shoulder wound. After a burst of pain, he felt the Stimpak working its magic and the piercing, pins-and-needle sensation that meant his injured tissues were knitting together. He used the remaining injectors on his back and his thigh, knowing the through-and-through in his side could wait. He felt the pain all across his body starting to recede but he knew he was nowhere close to battle-ready. He looked over the injectors of Med-X and Psycho, as well as a small bottle of Buffout. After a moment of debate, he counted a few injectors of each of the chems and a few capsules of Buffout. He needed to hurry but he knew he also had to stay calm and use his head. _I need to get right enough to fight, but not enough to OD. No more stupid mistakes, _he vowed_._

Charon followed the raiders' tracks which led westward, down a dirt path and onto a rocky outcropping. Moving quietly and staying low, he made his way down the path. Soon he came upon a guard who was occupied with a Psycho injector. The raider was oblivious as Charon crept up behind him silently. Charon knew from experience to focus his gaze away from the targets head as he closed the distance. The first time an instructor told him that technique would keep the target from noticing him, he laughed. After countless successful stalks, he no longer cared if it sounded like voodoo: it just worked.

In a flash, Charon's right arm wrapped tightly around the raider's neck. He crouched low and shifted his right hip underneath the helpless raider's back. Charon felt the body draped across his back starting to wiggle and the raider's fists beating weakly against the giant arm encircling his neck. Charon jerked his arm savagely and he felt something snap as the struggling body on his back went strangely limp. As he lowered the body, he looked into to the eyes of the raider, frozen wide with terror. As he blinked helplessly, the air began to hiss out of him like a deflating balloon. The raider would take some time dying, but Charon felt absolutely nothing as he picked up the doomed raider and deposited him in a nearby crevice out of sight.

Satisfied, he moved quietly to peer around the next corner. There he saw one more raider on guard, sitting propped against the rock wall next to a metal gate at the entrance of the cave. The raider's assault rifle was resting at his side and the man appeared to be half asleep. Charon carefully calculated how many paces at a full run he would need to cross the distance… and began.

A scuffling noise woke up the guard from the half-doze he was in and he looked up to see the last, most terrifying sight in his life. A giant, black-clad ghoul filled his vision like some nightmare creature. He felt a stunning impact and then he was rolling on the ground, his hands reaching for his ruined throat. He tried to swallow and scream but he heard nothing but a raspy hiss as the terrible hunger for air consumed his body. The sun in his eyes grew in to a giant fireball and his last thoughts were that he never noticed how bright the sun was before his eyes slowly closed.

Charon stayed motionless for a moment, listening for any sound that his presence had been detected inside the cave. The only sound was the prostrate guard, his legs kicking weaker and weaker. After a while, there was a dead silence. Charon dumped the raider with his fellow, taking a crowbar off of his body. Taking a deep breath, Charon made his way to the metal gate at the cave entrance, and quietly slipped inside.

* * *

Running with hands bound behind you is far harder than one might think. Arms are responsible for a degree of balance and momentum that is taken for granted until it's no longer available. Still, a healthy dose of fear provides enough adrenaline to keep up some decent speed. Fiona dashed as best she could through the dim tunnels. It felt like she had been running forever but in reality, she knew it had not even been a minute. She knew the raider had carried her for a while and desperately searched her memory for anything familiar that would lead her to the exit. But all she could remember before the bunk room was dirt and cave walls.

Still, with every twist and turn she made, Fiona kept hoping to see an exit. _Maybe this way,_ she thought. _No, maybe around this turn. _But everywhere she looked, there was nothing but the same featureless cave walls. She rounded a dimly lit corner and ran into another wall. "Omph" she breathed out as she felt the impact. Strong hands caught her from tumbling backwards and she realized that the "wall" was a giant of a man clad in leather armor.

Through her tears and the dim lighting, she couldn't see the figure clearly, but she knew who it was. "Charon?" She sniffled. "I thought you were dead," she sobbed, leaning her head forward to rest on the massive leather-bound chest.

A low gravelly voice responded. "Do I look like a fuckin' girl? Name's Benji, not _Sharon_."

Fiona's heart plummeted. _Fuck…_

The man grabbed her roughly and pulled her under the light of a nearby bulb. Upon seeing him clearly, Fiona saw that he was built like Charon, but was not as tall. Benji had skin that had been worn rough under decades of wasteland sun and radiation. There was a deep scar over his left eye, a reminder of something sharp that had barely missed blinding him long ago. His rough, shaggy brown hair was peppered with grey and like the rest of him, looked like it had not been washed in a long time.

Benji stared intently at her tear-stained face, open jacket and her heaving chest. Finally he spoke. "So, seems a few rules have been broken…" He grabbed Fiona by the back of her jacket and pulled her along with him, back towards the cavern she had just run from. After being up and running and having the hope of escape snatched away from her, Fiona got some of her fight back. She bucked, kicked and struggled against his grip, tearing the jacket off of her shoulders in an attempt to free herself from his grip. However, with her hands bound the jacket caught at her wrists and she stopped short.

After a few seconds of holding onto her jacket and watching her struggling wildly to get free, Benji sighed heavily. "I'm too hungover for this." He released his grip on the edge of her jacket, causing Fiona to stumble forward and hit the ground with her face. The impact left her with a split lip and she could feel a welt starting to form over her right eye.

With one large hand, the raider boss grabbed her by the scalp and hauled her up to her knees. Fiona let loose a scream for the first time. Bending down to meet her face, he spoke again. "Let's go for a walk."

Dragging her up to her feet, he led her by the hair back down the tunnels where the fight between Carl and Mick was in full swing. The two were rolling around on the ground now, though it was clear that Mick was winning. When no one immediately acknowledged his presence, Benji shook his head ruefully. He took a .44 Magnum from his waistband and fired it into the far wall, right over the group. That got their attention.

Benji spoke. "So," he began calmly "It seems a few of you forgot one of my commandments. Thou shalt not have first fuck." He walked towards them slowly, Fiona in tow. "It looks like somebody already tried to have a taste," he said, rubbing one hand lightly over her sore and bruising breasts. Every gaze turned in Carl's direction.

Carl gave Benji a sheepish look, shifting from foot to foot nervously. But before he could open his mouth, Benji aimed and fired a round into Carl's knee. He collapsed, clutching his ruined knee. His high-pitched screams filled the cave. "I assume," Benji continued "that this little skirmish broke out over who was going first?" The raiders exchanged frightened glances, nodding uncertainly. "Well," he said matter-of-factly, "luckily that's an easy decision. Because of this… infraction… no one but me gets her. Period." The raiders knew better than to protest. "Now, where's the other one?" Benji asked.

The raiders looked up in genuine surprise. As the silence continued to build, Benji looked like he was getting angry again and he gripped his .44 tightly. Finally, Mick worked up the courage to speak. "Um, what other one boss?"

"She said there was another one. When she ran into me in the dark, she thought I was some chick. Now where is the other one?" Benji was losing his patience. Fast.

Mick stepped forward with his palms up in a gesture of helplessness. "Boss, I swear she's the only one we brought back. There was no other girl."

Benji tightened his grip on Fiona's hair, and pulled her around to face him. "That true?"

Fiona didn't know how to answer. She could lie to him. She could say that yes, there was another woman somewhere in here and hope like hell they all turned on each other. But he would figure out she was lying pretty quickly. She shuddered to think about what he would do to her if he got angry. She shuddered to think about what he would do in a good mood for that matter.

Before she had time to make a decision, Benji shook her roughly by her hair and screamed. "Answer me! Who the fuck is _Sharon?_"

Without thinking, she looked him in the eyes and spat "He's the man who's going to fucking kill you!"

There was a long pause as Benji processed what she said. Looking annoyed, he glanced over to the group. "What the hell is this bitch talking about? Did you guys fuck up some kind of ransom job?" His voice lowered and he shook as he seemed to boil over in anger. "I said no _fucking _ransom jobs without my permission. I swear to…"

Mick quickly interjected. "No no, boss. It's not like that. We just caught her and some giant zombie out by the drive in. They took out a couple of our guys, but we finished him off and brought her back. Her ugly boyfriend ain't comin' to murder nobody."

Fiona clenched her jaw. It wasn't true. It couldn't be. Charon had lived through the _apocalypse_. He would _not_ be put down by a couple of raiders. Apparently Benji saw the look on Fiona's face.

"Sorry honey" he said mockingly. "_Was_ he your boyfriend? Are you a…corpse-fucker?" Fiona didn't respond. She kept her jaw clenched to keep from sobbing. When she stayed silent, Benji laughed softly. "Well, in that case you're in for a treat. I'll show you what a man can do when he has _all_ his parts."

With that, he turned around and began walking, pulling Fiona behind him, back the way she had originally run in hopes of escape. "And put that loot outside my tent. Don't think I didn't notice those two packs behind the far bunk you bastards!" Benji called over his shoulder. He released his grip on her hair, much to Fiona's relief. In an instant she broke into a run but got less than two paces before she was grabbed roughly by the back of her neck. Benji's large hand almost encircled her neck entirely and with a single squeeze he demonstrated how easily he could choke her out if she struggled.

Fiona wished the walk could take forever, but it was over far too soon. In the back of the caves, there was an old military-style tent set up at the end of a tunnel. Fiona was shoved roughly through the flap and into Benji's room. The tent was about what you would expect from a raider. Dirty and sparse. The only furnishings were two safes in the corner, a busted cabinet, and on the opposite side… a bed. Not just the usual dirty mattress, though. It was a queen sized mattress on a metal bed frame. Fiona's stomach dropped as reality stared her in the face. This was happening. And she didn't know what to do.

She felt him step up behind her, his hands slowly trailing from her shoulders, down the length of her arms. When he reached her jacket, she felt him reach for her hands underneath the bunched-up garment and something sliced her knuckle. She hissed in pain, bringing the injured digit to her mouth. It took Fiona a few seconds to realize her hands had been cut free. Quickly, she lunged for a baseball bat against the far wall of the tent but was caught by the throat and thrown like a rag doll onto the bed. In an instant, Benji was on top of her and he slapped her across the face so hard it snapped her head back and she lost consciousness.

When she awoke, she was lying on the bed with her hands bound together above her head, secured to the bars of the metal bed frame. She looked around and saw Benji with her pack, spreading her belongings out in the far corner. He hadn't noticed that she had awoken so Fiona tried to think of a plan. She tugged her hands, but she found them to be bound very securely, unfortunately. She glanced at her feet and had to bite back a gasp. Her pants and underwear were gone. _What if he already…no… He's still dressed and…I think I'd be sore if he had. Was he waiting for me to wake up? _

It looked like he had finished inventorying her pack and was moving onto Charon's. She was running out of time. Racking her brain, she couldn't think of any way out of the immediate situation, so her thoughts turned to her long-term options. She would have to bide her time… then grab an opportunity to escape once he'd let his guard down. Her eyes welled up with tears thinking about what she might have to endure to make that happen.

She lay there, crying silently until she felt weight shifting on the mattress. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and saw Benji sitting on the bed watching her. Fiona looked away from him and tried to pull herself together, but her thoughts kept going back to Charon. She had gotten him killed. She didn't cover him; then she let that raider get the drop on her, and he'd been overwhelmed. He'd just started to open up to her, even making sarcastic comments and dry jokes. She had hoped to see him smile one day… and now she would never know what it would look like.

Finally, Benji broke the silence. "So," he leaned over on his elbow, "I never met a zombie-fucker before. Heard about chicks that did that, but people always said the ones who did were ugly as fuck or crazy. Sometimes both." He raised his hand to her face and wrenched it towards him, studying it closely. "You're sure as hell not ugly." His other hand traveled from her breasts to her hips. "Are you crazy then?"

"Fuck off!" she screamed. "You don't know what you're talking about." She raised her leg and landed a hard kick on his side, but Benji didn't even flinch.

He laughed. "God damn. You really were banging him. Unbelievable." Benji rose and stripped off his jacket and shirt. His torso told the story of a long life, lived hard. Scars, burns and bullet holes adorned his chest and back. He was older than Charon, and his muscles were not as defined but they had the sinewy toughness that comes with age. Then he slowly stripped off his leather pants and turned around to face her. "See? _This_ is what a real man looks like." He held his arms out in a pose, as if he was presenting himself as a magnificent prize. Fiona had only ever been with one guy, so she wasn't sure what was average in terms of… _size_. But she couldn't claim to be astounded with what she saw below his waist. She mentally thanked herself for small favors. "Real men are covered in skin and rock hard muscle, honey. Wanna see what else is hard?" He crawled onto the bed and kneeled over her, staring into her face. He searched her eyes for some kind of reaction.

"Charon may be missing some skin, but his muscles are way more impressive… and so are are _other_ things." _I assume, anyway._ The statement came out of her mouth before she could think better of half expected him to fly off the handle and hit her again but instead, he laughed.

"Is that so?" he asked mockingly. His hands grabbed roughly at her breasts and sides, making her wince. "'Cause I am seriously curious why a looker like you would wanna bounce on a rotten dick. So tell me," Benji smirked and chuckled under his breath "what'd your pet shuffler do to get you in the sack? He rape you but you kinda liked it? Is that it?" Fiona didn't answer him. There was no point. He slapped her outer thigh hard enough to leave a ghostly hand print. "Yea? In that case, you'll be in love with _me_ before you know it…"

Fiona _snapped_. She began seeing red and boiling with anger and grief. She was grieving for her only friend in the wasteland. She didn't care if it got her killed but she was going to let Benji know exactly how he compared, even if she had to use her imagination. "Far from it. I wanted it!"

"Oh yea?" Benji was still laughing. "That zombie body get you all hot and bothered?"

"Yea it does! He's seven feet tall and built like a tank! And hung like a horse! Unlike you. Skin or not, Charon is more _man_ than you'll ever be!" She wasn't sure where that last bit came from, but she said it as naturally as if she'd planned it. Again, she expected a punch but got laughter instead.

"Was, sweetheart. _Was _more man. He's dead now." He leaned over her, lowering himself down. Whispering in her ear he added "And I'm gonna remind you of that every time I fuck you."

* * *

The cave was dark as he moved away from the entrance. Charon progressed slowly to let his eyes adjust, despite his rising worry for Fiona. _No more mistakes_, he repeated to himself. Every moment counts, but a single rushed move could backfire and doom his employer. Silent kills only, he decided, unless absolutely necessary. Eventually, he reached a larger cavern within the cave and heard voices just inside. Staying just out of sight, Charon surveyed the room.

Five hostiles total. One male raider near him, huffing Jet. Across the room, three bunks. The first, on the left, was occupied by the raider he remembered as 'Mick'. Another man was sitting on a chair near him, talking quietly. The third bunk, almost directly across the room had an injured man with a leg wound. He had just finished injecting himself with a dose of Med-X… and dropped the syringe next to another three on the floor. His head sank into his pillow and Charon could see his eyes roll back in his head. _That one won't be a problem, _thought Charon. The female raider from earlier was sitting far away from the men, on the right side of the room. But there was no sign of Fiona. Gripping his combat knife in his right hand and the crowbar in his left, Charon plotted his course. He pictured moving through the room, thinking carefully about each opponent until he had a perfect sequence in his head. _Five seconds. I just need five perfect seconds, _He thought_. _He took a deep breath to calm himself and tucked the crowbar in his belt_. Ok_. _Go_.

_Charon approaches the Jet-huffing raider slowly from behind. Once he is directly behind the unsuspecting addict, Charon's hand rips through the air. The countdown begins._ **One**. _Charon's left hand covers the raider's mouth as his right leg buckles from Charon's kick. Off balance and falling backwards, gravity assists Charon in the kill as the man's body is brought down on the tip of Charon's combat knife poised just below the man's brain stem._ **Two**. _Charon never stops moving and his left hand pulls the crowbar from his belt. Still moving, he turns his knife hand, pulling the weapon out from the brain of the first raider as his body falls away. He is halfway across the room by the time raider one hits the ground. _**Three**. _Raider two is rising from his chair and turning around towards the sound of the falling body as Charon's knife lashes out. The knife easily slices through the man's throat and Charon's torso is cocked for his next move. Springing forward, he spins with the crowbar in his other hand. The forked end of the crowbar connects with Mick's neck, pulling him down to the ground as it rips his trachea away._ **Four**. _The female raider is rising with her rifle in hand. Charon's knife flies through the air and describes one perfect rotation before landing in her carotid artery with a wet sound._ **Five**.

Charon did a quick check to make sure that all targets were down. He let his last breath out in a slow hiss as he let his breathing return to normal. He walked calmly over to the the woman now sitting again. She was not dead yet but it wouldn't take long for her to bleed out. She was shifting back and forth in her chair, hands tugging feebly at the knife protruding from her neck. Her eyes turned to him and there was a strange look in them, akin to gratitude as he reached for the knife. Ripping his knife from her neck, he dodged the arterial spray. _Who's leaking like a sieve now?_ One raider left. But Charon had other plans for him.

Approaching the drugged raider slowly, knife at the ready, Charon was relieved to see the man had not yet registered the death of his comrades. His eyes were lidded in a drug-induced haze. _Time to wake him up_. Charon jumped onto the mattress and clamped his hand over the raider's mouth. The man jerked awake and struggled uselessly by bucking his torso with his one good leg. It was laughably easy for Charon to keep him pinned.

Charon looked straight into his eyes. The raider was confused and fearful. Exactly what he wanted. Raising the bloody combat knife for the man to see clearly, Charon took the blade and made a deep cut down the left side of the raider's cheek. Screaming into his hand, the man kicked and bucked as hard as he could but Charon was immovable. Keeping his blank expression, Charon moved the knife again; this time to the raider's shoulder. His arm currently pinned under Charon's massive legs, the raider could do nothing to defend himself as another gash was cut into his flesh. The raider thrashed helplessly and screamed into Charon's gloved hand. Charon waited until the screaming died down into a low whimper.

Taking the knife and placing it directly over the man's wide eyes, Charon spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Do you believe that I can hurt you as severely and for as long as I desire?"

The raider nodded, eyes beginning to well up.

"I am going to ask you questions. If I don't like your answers, I will hurt you again. If I do like your answers, I will… give you something for the pain when I am finished. Do you understand?"

The raider nodded again.

"When I release your mouth you will not scream. Doing so will end your life." He let the man think for a moment, then slowly released his grip over the man's face. "What is your name?" Charon could not have cared less about his name. However, using a person's name when questioning them is a powerful interrogation tool, and Charon wanted to cut through the bullshit as quickly as possible.

"Car… Carl…" Now that he could move his head, the raider looked around for his friends, but saw only corpses. "Ah… are… are they dead? When'd, when that happen?" he asked, still dazed and disoriented.

Charon smirked. "About fifteen seconds ago."

The raider saw into Charon's eyes then, and knew who he was. Fiona's voice rang in his ears. _"He's the man who's going to fucking kill you!"_

Charon asked his first question. "Carl. How many more of you are there?"

"Um… uh… there's guys out front…"

"Not anymore." Charon stated plainly. "How many in _here_."

"Just uh… just me…"

Charon narrowed his eyes and clapped his hand over Carl's mouth. This time he cut into the man's forehead. Carl screamed beneath his hand but Charon's grip was airtight. Once he had quieted down, Charon removed his hand and asked again. "Carl. How many of you are in this cave?"

Carl was sweating profusely now. "Um… if they're all dead" he said looking over to his former friends, "and the guys out front are too…" he began panting heavily "then it's… oh man…"

Charon did not have the patience to wait while the junkie tried to think up a convincing lie. He clamped his hand down again and drew a red line across Carl's chest, cutting deep into the muscle there. "Stuttering is not an answer, Carl." He held another moment then released.

"Fuck man… I'm trying to answer. I gotta think. It's um… oh shit. It's just me… an' Benji… and your, your girlfriend. He's got her. Not me, see?" Carl took one more look at the ghoul to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "Shit. You're really _him_ aren't you?" Carl started to panic and sob. "She said… your girl said you were gonna come kill us."

"Where did he take her?!" Charon had held out some small hope that they would just lock her up somewhere and wait to deal with her. But now he _knew_ he had to act fast.

Carl was too afraid to even think of a lie to buy himself time. "Benji has a tent in the back of caves, round that exit on the right and up a ways, and then a left. That's where she is. He took her back there."

"How long ago?"

"Um, half an hour? Maybe… I don't, I dunno…"

Charon clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. He knew he was probably already too late to keep her from being raped and he hated himself. But hopefully she was still alive. "What kind of weapons does he have in there?"

"Uh… um…"

Charon was too furious to wait for this idiot to sober up, so he gagged and cut him again on his face. " 'Uh,um' is not an answer, Carl." He released and Carl sucked in a ragged breath.

"Fuck…. I know he's got a missile launcher stashed somewhere. And he's got a .44 too. And your stuff. He's got the packs we took. Shit. I'm sorry. I swear I didn't hurt her, man."

"Was she ok when he took her? Was she injured?!"

"No, she was…Ok, well she… I don't think she was hurt real _bad_." Charon raised his knife again. Panicking, Carl answered rapidly without thinking. "No, wait! Last I saw she had a busted lip but _I_ didn't do that. Musta been Benji. I don't do shit like that. I'm not rough like the others. I'm… I'm always real gentle with the girls, see? I tried to get her into it and make her feel good, but the others didn't car-"

Charon moved faster than Carl's eye could follow. Charon leaned over, face just inches away from his. Carl inhaled sharply as a combat knife sank hilt-deep into his heart. Charon watched as the scum who had molested Fiona died slowly. He could feel the man's heart still barely beating, but his eyes already had the glassy look of something dead. Before he was completely gone, Charon whispered in his ear. "Something for the pain. It's better than you deserve."

Jerking the knife out of him roughly, Charon wiped the blade on the side of his pants, and carefully proceeded the way Carl had indicated. His heart was racing and Charon fought to steady his hands. Sound traveled far in the caverns, so he took particular care to step lightly and control his breathing. The corridor was long and the slowness of his pace was maddening but necessary. Suddenly, Charon heard something.

"Fuck off!"

It was distant, barely audible, but it was definitely Fiona. He sighed with a small amount of relief. If she was still lively enough to spit curses, it was a good sign. Maybe he wasn't too late. Forcing himself not to run, Charon increased his pace to a walk. A minute later, he heard another exclamation.

"I wanted it!"

But he couldn't hear the rest. He finally found the corridor on the left, and glanced around. Sure enough, there was a tent set up at the very end.

There was a male voice now… laughing. "—hot and bothered?"

Charon ground his teeth. He proceeded at a faster walk now.

"—built like a tank! And hung like a horse!" _What the hell are they talking about? _Charon thought, as he closed the final few steps to the tent. "—Charon is more man than you'll ever be!" Charon stopped suddenly. They were talking about him?

Now that he was close enough, Charon paused for a deep breath before lifting the tent flap… "Was, sweetheart. _Was_ more man. He's dead now." Charon smirked at the surprise "Benji" was about to get.

Lifting the edge of the tent flap he was able to get a glimpse inside. Charon's heart stopped. His blood ran cold. His vision turned red.

* * *

Fiona locked her legs and used all her strength to keep him from getting them open. She was shaking with anger and grief but was committed to fighting with what strength she had. But Benji was stronger and grabbed her by the thighs, forcing them open painfully wide. But he didn't make a move to enter. He just looked at her face. If he expected her to scream, cry or beg, he'd be waiting a long time.

Movement in her peripheral vision caught Fiona's attention. The tent flap had fluttered. Then she saw it again. A hand moved slowly along the seam, creating a gap. A ragged hand with patches of missing skin.

Benji finally spoke. "Are you ready to take this, baby?"

Fiona locked eyes with him as a large shadow closed in on him from behind.

In a flash, Benji was grabbed around the throat by a large ghoulish hand and lifted into the air. Charon lifted the muscular raider over his head as if he weighed nothing, then slammed him down on the ground. The raider had no time to react when Charon jumped on top of him, pinning him down with his legs, and began punching.

Benji's head snapped to the side with the first punch, his jaw broken. Charon barely heard Benji's muffled scream over the rushing sound of blood in his ears. Charon's hands felt weightless as his fist crashed down. He felt, rather than heard, a crunching noise and his fist felt like it was pushing soft dough. He saw Benji's crushed eye socket through a haze of red as he swung again. Charon felt something else break and there was another muffled scream. He wasn't conscious of his hands moving again but suddenly, the head below him was lolling at an odd angle. Then he wasn't looking at the scene in front of him anymore but another scene in his memory. Charon was filled with a loathing he hadn't experienced in years. Seeing that animal on top of her, about to force himself…

"Charon!"

He stopped mid-swing when he heard Fiona yelling his name. Snapping out of his frenzy, he stared at his bloody fists and stood slowly. He struggled to catch his breath and his hands would not stop shaking. He turned and went to Fiona. Charon avoided staring at her body, not wanting to embarrass her. He cut her hands free and looked around for something to cover her with. He found a dirty blanket on the floor and he wrapped it tightly around her. Charon watched her silently, not knowing what to say. Fiona was staring at the body of the dead raider boss. Slowly, she rose and walked over to it, looking at what was left of his face.

"I told you so…" she said softly.

Fiona walked back over to the bed, and sat down on the edge. Cautiously, Charon sat down beside her. He could feel her trembling through the mattress but had no idea what to do.

"Are they all dead?" she asked him finally.

"Yes."

There was a pause before Fiona spoke again. Turning to look at Charon she said, in no more than a whisper "They told me you were dead. How… how did you get here?"

"I was… badly wounded. They left me for dead. But the radiation from the cars kept me from bleeding out. Then I found some Stimpaks." Finally looking her in the eyes he said "The instant I was able to stand I came for you." He paused. When she did not speak he continued. "This is all my fault. If I'd been faster…" She remained silent and Charon felt a sinking feeling in his gut. "I understand if you are angry with me. I failed in my duties. If you wish to transfer my contract, I- "

Charon was cut off suddenly when her arms flew around his neck. She buried her face in his shoulder and started crying. Charon sat stiffly at first, then nervously extended one arm and wrapped it gently around her, as if the slightest pressure might break her. He wasn't sure how long she cried, but eventually she calmed down.

The sobbing had reopened her split lip and bruises were forming on her face from Benji's slap and her fall. Charon rose and retrieved the medical supplies from their packs. He readied a Stimpak for her.

"I'm ok. I'll live" she reassured him.

But Charon insisted. "Your face. He… hurt you. Please." Fiona nodded and he injected the solution into her neck. Charon didn't want to ask the next question, but knew he needed to. "Are you hurt… anywhere else?"

Fiona shook her head. "No. He almost but… no. I'm not hurt anywhere else."

After an awkward silence she spoke again. "What about you? Are you hurt?"

He didn't want her to worry but he couldn't lie either. "Yes. I still have one gunshot wound that has not been treated."

Gasping she exclaimed "Why didn't you say so?! You've been sitting here while I cried and you still have a bullet in you? Oh my god Charon…" Fiona grabbed their kit and fished out a second Stimpak. "Ok, where is it?"

Charon lifted his jacket and revealed the wound on his side. She just stared at it for a moment, tears forming again. Charon did not want her to cry so he downplayed the injury. "It looks worse than it is. It was the least severe of the wounds so I left it untreated. Also, I believe the bullet passed through."

Fiona, shaking, administered the Stimpak. Dropping the empty syringe on the floor, she whispered. "Charon, I'm so sorry. I almost got you killed today. A few minutes ago I thought I _had_ gotten you killed. You didn't fail me. I failed you."

"No," he said forcefully. "You did well. You did not panic. You got to cover and fired. I got pinned and didn't have your back. I will not make the same mistake again by assuming an area is clear."

"No," Fiona said. "_We_ won't make the same mistake again." Drying her eyes, she looked up at Charon. In that moment in the dim light, that blood-spattered ghoulish face was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

* * *

**Post Chapter Note:** The next chapters are going to be tougher to write. Now that the emotional catalyst has been ignited, I'm going to have to take my time developing things naturally and realistically. So updates might not be _as_ fast. But don't worry. I should still be able to pump out a chapter a week at least.


	14. Chapter 14: Keep Moving

**Author's Note:** It's a slower, more laid-back chapter this week. Figured I'd give Fiona and Charon a break so they could recover. More action coming soon, though. The next few chapters are already in the works.

Also, FancyLadySnackCakes has flattered me greatly by drawing a scene from this fic! :) It is from Chapter 9 when Fiona first gets a good look at Charon's impressive musculature at the clinic. ;) Take a look: bellicosebutterfly. deviantart dot com/ gallery/#/d5ey1qp (remove the spaces and spell since FF is weird about links).

She also brought to life a mini comic I had floating around in my brain about how my husband just doesn't understand my love of a certain tall broody ghoul. :D bellicosebutterfly. deviantart dot com/#/d5f7h5a

* * *

Fiona scavenged every usable item from the tent. It was her postmortem "fuck you" to Benji. Both of them took copious amounts of ammo, chems and food. They were stymied temporarily by the two safes in Benji's tent but between Fiona's delicate touch and Charon's determination, the lockboxes eventually yielded their treasures. A torrent of caps spilled out and after counting, the take added up to over 500.

"May as well take his booze too" she added. "He won't be needing it anymore." Fiona turned back to the body of her attempted rapist, which was now draped in the dirty blanket since Charon had retrieved her clothes. "That's right you stupid fuck," she spat in its direction. "I'm stealing your shit!" She tucked several bottles of liquor into her pack. "Charon, take anything we need… and anything you might want too."

After briefly looking through a pile of Benji's belongings, Charon settled on a carton of cigarettes and tossed them into his pack. He swept the rest of the tent with his eyes and was about to give up when a metallic gleam caught his eye. He bent down and when he stood back up, he was gently, almost reverently cradling Benji's .44 scoped magnum. The antique weapon had been beautifully cared for. _For a slimy piece of shit, he at least knew how to treat a classic_, he thought. Charon improvised a holster with some leather cordage and secured the magnum to his belt.

He paused to look at Fiona and what he saw worried him. She had a steely coolness in her eyes now as she sorted and collected the loot, without even a trace of her usual smile. The emotional trauma she must be experiencing was his fault and as such, he felt a responsibility to help her. The problem was, he had no idea where to even start.

Finally, with the tent looted and their belongings packed, Fiona stood and threw her pack on. "Alright, then. I'm ready to move out." Checking her Pip Boy she added, "There's a little more than two hours of daylight left now, but I still think we can make it to RobCo. before nightfall."

To Charon's practiced ear, her business-like tone sounded forced and he stopped mid-step to give her a searching look. "You still intend to proceed on our original route?"

"Yes. I was upset and all but now that it's over, I just want to keep moving." Fiona paused and in the uncomfortable silence, Charon began to imagine all of the things left unsaid but Fiona continued. " I had things to do this morning and they still have to get done." She nodded with a look of finality that Charon dared not question. She was clearly not alright but what could he do but follow her orders?

They exited the tent and made their way through the tunnels. Upon reaching the cavern with the bunk room, Charon tried discretely to block her view of the carnage with his massive frame. Fiona stopped suddenly and poked her head around him, knowing what he was trying to do. What she saw was horrifying and yet oddly impressive. The raiders were all dead by Charon's hand. She moved to step forward and get a better look when Charon's hand reached out and landed on her shoulder. Fiona turned to look at his face. "All you?" she asked, pointing in the direction of the macabre scene. He nodded.

Fiona moved forward again. Two months ago, she would have vomited from seeing such a sight. But in that moment she felt nothing except a kind of grim appreciation for what Charon had done to get to her. They were all dead from what looked like knife wounds, except for Mick whose entire throat was torn out. _Maybe Charon did that with his bare hands_.

As Fiona made her way through the bunk room, a body on a mattress looked vaguely familiar. As she drew closer, she saw that the body was decorated with deep gashes and cuts. She had to examine the battered face for a minute before she recognized it as being Carl's. Her head turned to Charon questioningly but before she could inquire about the condition of the body, Charon spoke. "Interrogation."

"Ah," Fiona replied. "And he… wouldn't talk, apparently."

"No, he talked" Charon said softly. "But he hurt you. I was never going to let him live."

"Well…good" she said, her voice distant and low. She added quickly "He was a weirdo." She turned away from the body and began to loot what little there was in the footlockers and boxes in the bunk area, and Charon followed suit. "Guy was acting like I was his girlfriend or something." She shuddered, but continued looting. _And ruined breast play for me forever… ugh. _A wave of nausea overtook her as the memory replayed in her mind but she forced herself to take a deep breath to counter the feeling. "God damn. I want a shower so bad right now, Charon." Her voice began to crack so Fiona went quiet. She had a nervous energy she desperately needed to expel but she didn't want to speak about what had happened in detail. Charon already felt guilty enough.

As they left the caves and headed northwest in the direction of the old RobCo. Facility, Fiona had to fight the urge to take off in a run. Her instincts were telling her to run as fast and as far as she could. But she forced herself to walk the same brisk pace she had been taking earlier that day. Charon was following much closer than usual, almost by her side rather than a few paces behind. Fiona kept looking over at him and every time she did, the panic subsided slightly.

* * *

Almost as if the universe was cutting them some sort of a break, they didn't encounter any hostile people or animals on the rest of their journey to the pre-war hub of robotic technology. For Charon, the building looked about the same as any other run down factory in the wastes. But as they approached the derelict factory facility, Fiona's eyes went wide and her mouth turned upwards in a smile normally reserved for children who've discovered a new toy.

"Wow," she whispered to herself. "There it is. RobCo." Her pace slowed as if she wanted the approach to last forever, savoring the moment. "All the computer terminals, the military technology, the cool robots… all came from there," she sighed dreamily.

"Well, there and a few hundred other factories," Charon replied.

"Oh." Fiona processed the information. Unfazed, she said "Still cool."

As they approached the entrance, Charon was cautious. He had no idea what sort of security might still be in place within, and wanted no surprises. He signaled for Fiona to stay behind the door as he slowly opened it and peered inside. A quick inspection revealed a few deactivated Protectrons adorning the entryway like a showroom. With the first room clear of immediate danger, Charon waved Fiona inside.

Apparently she had never seen a Protectron before as she moved forward to carefully inspect what were now little more than metallic statues. Standing almost as tall as Charon, the machines had a humanoid appearance. Arms, legs, knees and elbow joints all joined to a large metal torso. The head wasn't humanoid. It was more of an elongation of the torso. Still, they looked intimidating.

"Do you think there are any still active in here?" Fiona asked Charon.

"It is likely. We should be cautious."

Charon was greatly relieved as they proceed beyond the main lobby, to find little more than radroaches, molerats and a few active, though easily felled, Protectrons patrolling the deteriorating facility. They were lucky there was nothing they couldn't handle inside, because Fiona was being unusually aggressive. Coming upon a large nest of molerats, she had not even ducked behind cover, but stood in the open firing away until the last of them fell. Charon thought perhaps she needed to release some tension and was picturing Benji's face on the large rodents. He certainly was.

The Protectrons were slightly tougher, requiring more inflicted damage before they fell. However, Fiona and Charon soon found a natural rhythm between them as they confronted each one. The machines' attacks were automated and predictable and with the help of a few pulse grenades, they were not much of a challenge.

As they wandered the halls, all alike and seeming to run together in her mind, Fiona grew increasingly frustrated. "Where the hell is the mainframe?! Am I just stupid and walking past it?" Fiona asked aloud at the exact moment she walked through the door to the correct room. "Oh… hey, found it" she said with far less playful enthusiasm than Charon had come to expect.

He lost track of time as he stood staring at her while she typed away on the terminal. Charon wasn't used to feeling this kind of unresolved tension. His employer was now safe, and she had not punished him or threatened to terminate his employment. This feeling should have been alleviated by now. His thoughts were interrupted by Fiona as she finally figured out how to turn off the hostility protocols in the remaining Protectrons and turrets.

"Fucking finally! Jesus. Moira had better pay me in caps this time around. I swear…" She turned to look at Charon, standing against the far wall and staring straight back at her. "So," she started "it's dark outside by now. I guess we're spending the night here." He nodded. Fiona continued when he didn't speak. "Not that I'm tired at all. In fact, I feel kind of wired. I guess now that the security is offline we can wander around, scav and stuff… or whatever. I mean, if you're tired you can go ahead and sack out. I'm just… probably not going to sleep very well regardless so…" she stood fidgeting "I'll stop rambling now."

Charon stepped forward and looked down at his employer. "Very well. We can scavenge the rest of the facility first. Perhaps you will tire by the time we are finished."

Charon and Fiona spent hours slowly making their way through the facility, barely speaking except when necessary. Her gaze seemed far away and she was obviously lost in thought as they searched the RobCo offices. Soon enough they had found everything of value there was to find and proceeded to the factory floor.

Leaning over some railing, Fiona could see row upon rows of assembly lines and she tried to imagine what they might have looked like…before. She finally spoke."It's kind of amazing, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, after 200 years, everything is a pile of shit. It's all ruined and dead and just… ashes. Except them." She pointed down to a Protectron that was still clunking along it's usual patrol route. "It's been online and running all this time. None the wiser to the rest of the world. It just… keeps going. No matter what. The programming it was born with 200 years ago is still the same today and it'll just keep patrolling until it falls apart one day." Fiona sighed deeply, staring up at Charon. _Sort of like him. He's been inexplicably brainwashed for 200 years… only he's not a machine. I swear, I am going to help him somehow. _"It's sort of amazing that the same people who were capable of creating things that are so enduring just turned around and destroyed it all."

Charon nodded wordlessly. He didn't often think of the pre-war days now. They were so long ago and represented such a small part of his life now that he rarely had any reason to reminisce. Each time he thought about the pre-war world, it seemed more and more like a dream.

"You look contemplative" Fiona said, studying his face closely. "What are you thinking about?"

"Before the war…" Charon's voice was as emotionless as he could make it. "Like you said, how we were capable of so much but let paranoia and fear ruin everything. It used to piss me off."

"It doesn't anymore?" she asked.

"No. In a way, I think this… the wasteland, was inevitable."

Fiona was surprised to hear that opinion coming from someone who knew the world as it had once been. She would have thought that someone who had known the safety and security of organized society would long for it. "Inevitable how?"

"People are exactly the same today as they were back then. No better. No worse. That whole society… it was nice and all. But the longer I live, the more I think it just made people think they were more evolved than they really were. So when we finally saw ourselves… when we realized that deep down, we were all just panicky animals wearing suits… it was too late. The buttons had already been pushed." Charon fished out a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it. He continued. "We were smart enough to build a 'civilization' but not smart enough to protect it from ourselves. Maybe the wasteland lets us start over. Maybe next time we'll get it right." He took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaled slowly and gave a humorless chuckle. "Probably not, though." For a few minutes, there was nothing but the hiss of the cigarette as it flared, and the slow exhale of smoke. "Really hope I don't live long enough to see people fuck up another civilization." Acrid fingers of smoke tickled Charon's nose and he realized he was down to the filter on his cigarette. He squeezed and rolled the filter in between his fingers to extinguish the dying cigarette and he flicked the butt to the bottom of the factory floor below.

Fiona stood, stunned. This was the most Charon had ever spoken at one time. Also, she hadn't expected him to be so philosophical. She couldn't help but stare up at him and smile. He finally looked back with a tiny smirk.

"Surprise" he said sarcastically. "It talks."

Fiona smiled wider now. "I like it. You should do that more often. You know, express yourself."

"Very well." Charon noticed that Fiona looked a bit happier now. Perhaps his talking had distracted her from her own problems. If that was the case, he would indeed express himself more often. He was surprised by how a small lift in her mood affected him.

As they stood together in silence, Fiona suppressed a yawn. She was beginning to feel tired physically, but she knew her mind would have trouble shutting down. Unconsciously, she moved her arm closer to Charon's as they leaned against the railing, her elbow coming into contact with his. He noticed immediately but made no move to pull away.

"We should find a place to settle down for the evening" Charon suggested. "Perhaps somewhere near the mainframe in case you need to access the Protectrons."

"Good idea" Fiona said as she straightened herself. As they proceeded back toward the mainframe, she commented "I can't believe Ahzrukhal actually forbade you to speak without permission. I can tell you have an active mind. That would have made me go crazy."

_Some days I thought I was going crazy,_ Charon thought to himself.

"So why did he do that? Was he just a massive tool?" she asked.

"Partly. Also, one time I… spoke out of turn. After that he became stricter" Charon said flatly.

"You told him what you thought of him, huh?"

"In great detail" Charon responded.

They reached the offices and began scouting for rooms near the mainframe which would be the easiest to secure. "Charon, I have to admit I'm curious. What did he do that made you want to kill him so bad?" Fiona saw Charon's face tighten immediately. He looked almost… afraid. Until that moment, she could not have imagined such an imposing figure displaying any kind of fear. Guiltily, she added quickly before he could answer. "It's ok if you don't want to tell me! I mean… sorry, I forget that my questions come off as 'orders' for you."

Charon, looking visibly relieved, said "Thank you. He did… many terrible things that made me want to kill him. Most of them I do not wish to discuss."

"Yeah, I can relate to that now…" Fiona added softly. Shaking her head roughly, as if to banish unwanted thoughts, she continued. "So if I ever ask something that you really don't want to answer, you have permission to tell me so, ok?"

Charon nodded, solemnly.

* * *

Charon selected an old office that looked easy to secure and they began preparing it for occupation. They barricaded the door, armed some traps and set up a sleeping area. Laying out their bedrolls against the back wall, guns within easy reach, Charon and Fiona both sat at one of the old desks and ate dinner while listening to GNR at a low volume. After the exhausting day, even Instamash and Salisbury Steak tasted amazing. Leaning back and rubbing her stomach in a satisfied gesture, Fiona couldn't help but smile at the Roy Brown song on the radio.

I'm a mighty, mighty man, I'm young and I'm in my prime. I'm a mighty, mighty man, I'm young and I'm in my prime.I don't pick my jobs, I'm ready for any ol' kind...

"Hey, Charon?"

"Yes?"

"Do you… I mean, can I ask you some stuff? I still don't know much about you. If you don't want to talk about it, it's ok…" Fiona looked at him, a begging expression on her face.

Charon sighed. If it would make her feel better, he was willing to reminisce about old times, though he didn't particularly like to. "It is alright" he said flatly. "What is it about me that you wish to know?"

"Well," she paused "anything you want to share. It doesn't have to be too personal if you don't want…" She thought for a moment. "Ok, start with basic stuff then. Like where you were born, your family… you know. Biographical."

"Very well." Charon paused for a moment, drawing up old memories he had not accessed in many decades. "I was born in a city called Boston. I had a mother and a father. Two sisters." He wasn't sure what else to say. His earlier socio-philosophical rant had been unexpected even to him.

When Charon didn't continue, Fiona asked again. "Ok, so what was Boston like?"

Charon thought for a moment, trying to remember. "I remember it was cold in the winter. I hated the snow. My sisters loved it though, and they would hit me with snowballs when I had my back turned." He smiled a bit at the memory, hazy though it was.

Fiona was finally grinning genuinely now, to Charon's immense relief. "Snow… I can't even imagine what that must have been like! The closest I've ever gotten was when the walk-in freezer in 101 had to get defrosted this one time. Me and Freddie got stuck scraping out the frozen gunk on the sides and he chucked a piece of ice at my head." She laughed. "I found out later that he had a crush on me."

Now both of them were smiling faintly. "Ok, so tell me more" Fiona pleaded.

"Well, we lived in a Brownstone, just like practically everybody else I knew." He could already see the question forming in her mind and answered "They were like really tall and narrow houses. Think of the pre-war houses you see out in the wastes. Then imagine pulling it up then squishing it in" he gestured with his hands. "It'd look like that, only there were dozens of them, all in a row and mashed together."

Fiona's eyes were wide, her imagination vividly building the world Charon was describing to her. "Wow, there must have been a lot of people there. Was Boston big? Like… with thousands of people in it?"

"Over half a million people, smoothskin. Way more if you count the suburbs and the students" he said smirking, amused at her fascination with the pre-war era. "There were a lot of colleges around back then. Thousands and thousands of kids would come to the city to go to the schools." Before she could ask he added "And no, I wasn't one of them. I joined the army after High School."

"Damn," she said. "I can't even imagine that many people. It sounds impossible. I mean, I only ever knew a few dozen people in the vault. That was my whole world and coming to the surface was sheer insanity with how many people there are to meet in the wasteland. But then this is only a fraction of what the population used to be…" she trailed off. "And I've read about colleges and pre-war schools but it always seemed so weird. All those years just spent studying? Of course, I guess there was a lot more in the world _to_ study, huh?" Charon just shrugged his shoulders. He never saw the point in spending an extra 4-10 years in school either.

Eventually, her mind stopped racing with thoughts of the old world. Fiona remembered the booze they had claimed from the dead raiders and she jumped up and retrieved a bottle of whiskey from her pack. She sat down on her bedroll against the wall and beckoned with her hand for Charon to join her. He did so, sitting on his own roll. As Fiona cracked open the bottle, she said "Ok, so tell me more. What was your family like?" She started to take a long pull from the bottle but she was seized with a fit of coughing from the unexpected burn of the liquor and Charon waited for her to quiet down.

"Well," Charon continued "my sisters were younger. I… I don't remember exactly how much younger. Several years at least. My mom was sweet. Very patient. Tolerant. She had to be, to stay married to my old man." He sighed, searching for another cigarette in his pack. Finding one and lighting it, he continued. "He was a good dad, but probably not a very good husband. He drank a lot, I think. Of course as a kid, you never really notice those things until years later." He let out a long exhale before he continued. Fiona shoved the bottle at him, gesturing for him to take a drink. He hesitated at first, but then shrugged and took a long swig before passing it back. When Charon saw Fiona listening quietly with a smile of expectation, he kept talking. "Anyway, he worked a factory job at… ah man… where the fuck did he work? I totally forget. Well, it was factory work. My mom worked for a lawyer as a receptionist. Forget which firm. Doesn't matter anyways."

He glanced over to Fiona, who had taken several more swigs of alcohol in the time he'd been talking. "So yeah, that was my childhood. Only thing that really stood out about me was that I was always the tallest kid my age. Otherwise, pretty average overall. Average home life, average grades in school. Average IQ."

"You seem really smart though," Fiona said. "You don't seem average. You're insightful and you react quickly and improvise… and you kick ass."

He chuckled softly. "That's just experience. Give anybody 200 years and they'll be able to figure a few things out" Charon smirked at her.

"You know what I don't get?" she asked, her speech slurring as she continued to drink at a worrisome pace.

"What?"

"I don't get why people are so afraid of ghouls!" she exclaimed, in the righteous indignation of the drunk. "The first person who was ever nice to me was a ghoul in Megaton. Then the people at Underworld were nice too, even nicer than people at other settlements." Her hands swung wide in an extravagant gesture and Charon dodged discretely. "And… if someone has been around for such a long time I would think that experience would be valued… but instead it's just… fear and prejudice…"

"Like I said before," Charon calmly explained "panicky animals wearing suits."

"Yeah…" she trailed off. "Depressing though." Fiona took a few more swigs of the whiskey, passing it to Charon, who took one as well. He almost didn't want to pass it back at the rate she was drinking, but thought better of it. "I mean, when I first saw Gob, my immediate reaction was 'Oh shit! What the fuck is wrong with that guy?!' but since no one was running around screaming I figured it was just one more weird thing about the wasteland I didn't know… and I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. I mean, if I can do that why can't everyone else? You know, just… get over it…"

Charon was thinking of a response when Three Dog interrupted their conversation:

"Hello chiiiiiiiildren! It's Three Dog. Owwwwwwww! That crazy vault kid's been at it again. I wanna tell you all a little story about a kid named Bryan Wilks…"

"God damn, that was fast!" Fiona exclaimed. "It's only been two days! How'd he hear about that already?!" She crawled over to the radio at the desk, on her hands and knees, and spoke directly to the speaker. "Are you stalking me TD? Are you? Do you have a big ole' boner for the vault kid and you just follow my ass around? Huh?"

A laugh escaped him before Charon could control himself. Seeing her on all fours talking to the radio was one of the funniest things he'd seen in years.

"Are you laughing at me, Charon?" she turned and asked with feigned indignity. He gave her a small smile and nodded. Giggling, she crawled towards him. "How rude. Don't you know I'm your employer, mister? I can do no wrong!" she exclaimed, still laughing, as she collapsed onto her bedroll.

"I have had employers who thought precisely that…" he mentioned casually.

"Yeah well, they were buttholes!" Fiona exclaimed with a sternness that got Charon's attention. "Forget about them! Because they sucked, and I have never sucked." Fiona paused for a moment, then started giggling again. "Technically not true I guess, considering…there was just the one guy…" She took another swig of the whiskey, and blushing furiously, she added "Not that you wanted to know my personal history…"

Charon couldn't stop the imagery that flashed into his mind. He tried to stop it. He honestly did. But there it was. Fiona. Dark brown eyes looking up at him, cheeks flushed and indented, tongue swirling… Charon adjusted himself on his bedroll, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Fiona continued rambling. "Oh crap, now you think I'm some sort of slut. I'm really not. I've only ever… ya' know… been with one guy. It was back in the vault. And we broke up almost a year ago. So I'm not some sort of seductress or anything. I mean, I can play one well enough when I need to but it's only an act and…"

Charon only heard bits and pieces of what Fiona said after that. Imagining some little vault twerp on top of her made him roll his eyes. That stupid kid probably had no idea what he was doing with her. Most teenage boys don't. Charon hadn't really figured things out until his late 20s, and he'd had over a decade of _ample_ practice by then.

Suddenly, he remembered what he had overheard in the tent that afternoon. Charon had almost forgotten since there had been far more pressing matters to attend to. But now he couldn't help but wonder… _How does she know how I'm "hung?" _

She must have noticed him drifting off because he heard his name.

"Charon? Charon are you ok? Oh shit… am I making you uncomfortable?" she asked, suddenly concerned. "I'm sorry. I'm really not used to liquor" she said. Her face was flushed red and her eyelids had the characteristic droop of the sleepy drunk. "I'm just talking without a filter right now."

"No, you are not making me uncomfortable." _Well, not exactly_.

"Oh, ok" she said. "You just… you looked concerned for a second there."

Charon took the bottle back from Fiona and took a drink. His thoughts turned back to what she had said in the tent. When Fiona suddenly looked confused at him, he realized with horror that he had accidentally thought out loud: "Like a horse…"

Realization dawned on Fiona and her eyes went wide with embarrassment and surprise. "Oh… fuck. Yeah, you heard that?" Fiona stuttered trying to explain. "I have no idea about… any of that. He was being such an asshole and bragging about himself that I just wanted him to shut up and make him feel inferior. I swear I've never looked, Charon!" she exclaimed, waving her wands defensively. "I just sort of imagined. Or assumed maybe." She was rambling again. "Because you're so tall. I mean, I don't know if that has anything to do with size. I don't think it does. But I mean, tallness and… bigness is what I thought of when I imagined you." Now it was Charon's turn to look embarrassed. "Wait, that came out weird! I don't spend time imagining you naked!" Fiona paused, trying to collecting her thoughts. "It was just in that moment… well, I'd much rather have been thinking of you than him and…" her face turned downwards. She shuddered almost imperceptibly.

_Shit,_ Charon thought, _ now I reminded her about it. _

"Anyway, when they told me you were dead I freaked out. And because I was so upset that asshole assumed we were… you know…together. So I let him think it. I didn't care what the fuck he thought anyway…" her speech trailed off.

"I apologize. I did not intend to bring that up. I…" Charon tried to think of the words. Before he could, he felt arms wrap around his side. Fiona was hugging him again, but this time without tears.

With her head resting on his shoulder she said "It's ok. It was gonna be on my mind tonight no matter what. But thanks for trying to keep me distracted. I really appreciate it, Charon." She smiled as she released him, and settled back on her bedroll. A drunk yawn threatened to take over her face and Fiona said "I am getting tired though. I think I'm gonna try to get some sleep."

Charon nodded, turning off the radio and lying down on his own bed roll. After several minutes of silence, he heard her speak softly again.

"Charon… you still awake?"

"Yes."

"Just wanted to say, you should smile and laugh more often. It's a good look on you." Charon was silent, unsure how to respond. Fiona continued "Ok, that's it. Goodnight." And rolled back over.

As he stared at the crumbling ceiling in the dim light, Charon agreed. It had felt really good to laugh.

* * *

**Post Chapter Note**: Yeah, bitches! Charon is a Southie! I know the accent isn't quite right but hey, it's been two centuries since he's been in the old neighborhood. And ghoul voices make accents tough to recognize anyway. Just trust me on this. :-P


	15. Chapter 15: Tension

Fiona woke from her dreamless sleep to a feeling of dread. The memories of yesterday all came flooding to the front of her mind, as she struggled in a state that was just shy of full consciousness. There was a heaviness in her chest that was weighing her down, pinning her to the floor. She could feel the raiders' hands on her skin, smell their stink, see their faces… Gasping, she jumped up. As the nightmarish scene faded away from her mind's eye, she suddenly felt grimy and the need to feel clean hit her like an itch. Fiona's panicky rise from slumber roused Charon as he started, looking around for danger.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Didn't mean to startle you. I just realized I feel really unclean and want to find the nearest bathroom. ASAP."

Charon nodded and rose with her, methodically collecting their belongings and packing them away. The morning silence was broken by a low growling sound. It was Fiona's stomach again. With a knowing smile, Charon offered her a box of snack cakes and purified water for breakfast. She accepted them with a sheepish smile as he opened a box of Yum-Yum Deviled Eggs for himself.

She remembered embarrassing herself last night by talking way too much about things she probably should not have. Still, she had accomplished one of her wasteland goals in the process: she got to see Charon smile. And laugh too! Fiona decided it might be worth occasional self-humiliation to help him open up more. Laughing silently to herself she thought, _And of course he had to overhear me yelling about his… imaginary horse cock… because the universe doesn't hate me enough._ But at least he hadn't been offended it seemed.

As he swallowed the last bite of egg, Charon began disassembling the makeshift barricade against the door. Fiona shook her head in awe as he moved large filing cabinets, shelves and entire desks on his own as easily as if he were lifting storage boxes. His immense strength never ceased to amaze her. He opened the door slowly and silently, peering around the hall and inspecting the traps he'd set last night. With no sign of any intruders in the building, he signaled for Fiona to exit the room and follow him.

While there were no showers in the building, there was a bathroom located on the office floor. And after last night's drinking they both needed to pee. After business was concluded, Charon stood guard outside the door while Fiona bathed at the sink. She had left the door cracked open and Charon wondered why, until she started talking to him. If she was feeling chatty while sober, it was a good sign, he reassured himself.

"So, now that I have Moira's robot stuff done, I was thinking we'd head back to Rivet City today. It's still early so we can be there by this afternoon I think." She sighed heavily, splashing water under arms. "Hopefully we can find someone who actually remembers the city's early days or knows what the hell they're talking about this time. But if not, I guess we'll just have to include a footnote in the book under that chapter. Maybe 'Information may be totally inaccurate because Rivet City citizens have memories like fruit flies' or something."

Fiona scrubbed herself vigorously, trying to imagine that the layer of raider filth she felt all over her body was being wiped away. However, she knew it would be awhile before she could really feel clean again. "Also, I guess now it's been long enough I can give Zimmer that… metal thing. Android component. But damn it, Charon, I really wanted to know who the android was! Not just for my own curiosity…" at that she heard Charon snort and mumble something. "Hey!" she exclaimed "I said not _just_ for my curiosity. I admit that's part of it. Smartass," she added playfully. "No, I mean if he's being hunted, and has no idea he's being hunted because he doesn't know who he is, that makes him vulnerable! Right now, Zimmer wants to keep a low profile but what if he doesn't believe the lie I tell him? He could get impatient and start… I don't know… tossing pulse grenades all over the place? He'd find the android pretty quickly that way. And the poor guy wouldn't know what hit him!"

Charon knew she had a point. Ignorance isn't bliss. It's a liability. "Ok," he began. "Say you do figure out who it is. You plan to just walk up to him tell him he's an android? He will think you're insane."

"I know. That's why I'll need some sort of… proof. Of some kind. I don't know what though." Charon didn't say anything but it was as if Fiona could sense his skepticism. "Hey, the plan is a work in progress. I still have time to figure it out" she said as she cut off the running water. Drying herself with an old RobCo jumpsuit, she quickly redressed and emerged feeling only marginally fresher. She did feel a bit better, though. If only for now.

Leaving RobCo, Fiona plotted a route that would avoid the raider caverns and Andale. It wasn't as direct as she'd like, but she wanted nothing to do with either place. As they walked, Fiona noticed she was staying much closer to Charon than usual. Or perhaps, he was staying much closer to her. The trek was relatively uneventful, the pair encountering a radscorpion, a few feral dogs and a random yao guai. The yao guai had given them some problems, Fiona still being a bit unsure of herself. But Charon had stayed calm, given clear directions and the beast fell before they could suffer more than a few scratches. They stayed low for several minutes, making sure their fire had not attracted anything else to their location. When Charon was sure the coast was clear, he showed her how to field dress the mutated bear and picked out the choice parts that he knew might sell for decent caps in Rivet City. Out of principal, Charon hated to waste that much good meat but there was no way that the two of them could carry back all the meat from a yao guai.

As the sun reached its zenith, they arrived at the bank of the Potomac. A dim grey shadow below the waterline told them that their boat was exactly where they had left it. Charon slipped his pack off and he waded into the water towards the submerged boat. He grabbed the edge of the aluminum boat and with one strong motion, pulled it from the water. The liquid splashed over the sides as they reached in and dug out the large rocks which had anchored it down. Suddenly, gunfire erupted all around them.

"TALON COMPANY!" they heard someone yell. Followed by "Right where Sparkle said they'd be…"

Fiona and Charon dove away from each other as gunfire and laser fire tore into where they had just been standing. They hugged the ground at the water's edge, bodies almost completely submerged as they each sought cover behind separate outcroppings. Charon peeked his head up to catch a glimpse but quickly ducked back down under a hail of bullets. He looked over to where Fiona had took shelter. She was pinned under withering fire but she appeared to be safe for the moment. They needed something to break up the attack so they could get out of the kill zone of the ambush. Charon waved his hand to catch Fiona's attention. He cupped his hands around his mouth to be heard and yelled, "Do you have any mines or grenades?"

Fiona shook her head. "They're all in your pack!" They both looked in dismay at Charon's pack, now lying in the open in between them. The middle of the killzone. As if to punctuate their dire situation, a near-miss kicked up a small explosion of dirt into his eyes and his head flinched back. Charon let out a deep sigh. _No easy days in the wasteland…_

"Fiona! When I give you the signal, just stick your gun out and hose them!" Fiona nodded quickly. He turned onto his belly and made himself as flat as possible as he turned his body to face his pack. He took a few deep breaths to steel himself then when he had caught Fiona's eyes, he brought his hand down in a sharp chopping motion. Fiona raised her hand above the cover of the bank and pointed her SMG towards the sound of the firing. A stream of bullets hosed out of her gun as she tried her best to keep it in the general direction of the Talon mercs.

Charon began to low-crawl quickly towards the pack, hoping that the sloping ground might cover his movement. The storm of bullets kicking up in front of his face disabused him of that notion. As Fiona watched in horror, Charon rolled away then dove back to cover, gunfire tracing his every movement. As if they realized what his intentions for the pack had been, the mercs started to concentrate their fire on Charon. Fiona gazed intently at the pack as she tried to think her way out their situation. _We need the extra firepower from the grenades and the mines if we're going to fight our way out… _She pushed her face lower into the dirt as she felt the buzz from a low burst tearing over her head. When she saw Charon roll away from a laser blast that barely missed his head, she made up her mind.

_Ok…They are concentrating on Charon, so I'm not being suicidal; I'm just… taking a calculated risk, that's all, _she thought to her self unconvincingly. She took a few deep breaths and her vision seemed to narrow as she concentrated on the pack. As she tried to will her self to move, she suddenly felt frozen in place with fear. If she didn't move now, she felt like she might stay like this forever. With a scream, she felt herself leaping forward. Her feet churned the wet earth as she started scrambling towards the pack. Her breath came in deep gulps and she saw the Charon's bag as if it were at the end of a dark tunnel. Dimly, she felt her feet slapping the ground and her arms milling wildly and it seemed like her movements were in slow-motion.

Charon saw something in the corner of his eye and turned just in time to see Fiona sprinting towards his pack. His eyes widened in surprise and shock as he realized her intent. The Talon mercs also watched in amazement as the slender form of a girl broke cover and ran right into the middle of the open kill zone. They quickly shook off their surprise and started to shift their fire towards the target in the open. Just as Fiona reached the pack, a stream of gunfire started tracing a path to her, following her movements. As Fiona reached out for a pack strap, the mercs seemed to find their range and the dirt exploded all around her as her hand snagged the loop of nylon.

Fiona winced as dirt flew in the air all around her and she felt like her heart would burst out of her chest. Suddenly, a bullet ripped through the strap she was holding and the pack dragged like an anchor behind her. A sense of desperation overwhelmed her and the safety of Charon's position seemed like it was a hundred miles away. With a burst of strength fed by fear, she dove the remaining distance to Charon. She landed in a heap next to him and breathlessly handed him his pack.

Charon gave her a stunned look, then shook his head and took the bag from her. "We need to break the momentum of their assault, so I can maneuver on them," he said, digging through the pack. He quickly pulled out all of the grenades and the mines. Arming the mines, he quickly tossed one on each side of the embankment they were taking cover behind. "They are going to try to assault our position soon. The ones up top will keep us pinned down while they maneuver on our position for the kill." Charon lined up their remaining grenades. "When the mine hits the assault element, we'll use the pause to try to air burst the grenades over the guys pinning us down. Pull the pins, cook it off and throw on my signal. Got it?"

Her breath restored from the brief rest, Fiona nodded. Above them, the fire seemed to slacken a little. "That will be them shifting fire so they can maneuver on us," said Charon. "Get ready." Charon had one hand on a grenade and one hand on his shotgun, so Fiona did the same. They didn't have long to wait. There was a dull boom and a scream filled the air as one of the mines exploded on the Talon mercs trying to outflank them. The fire slackened as if in surprise and Charon's lips turned up in a grim smile as he held up his grenade. He motioned to Fiona and they each pulled a grenade pin at the same time. After counting to three silently, they each threw their grenades in an overhand pitch. The dull steel-grey bodies arced through the air before exploding just above where the remaining mercs had been positioned.

"Keep their heads down!" Charon said, readying his combat shotgun. Fiona smiled. _My turn, assholes._ She leapt up and she started raking the merc's position with SMG fire. Charon moved out and she heard his shot gun roar twice as he finished off the attackers who had been disabled by the mine. As she kept up a steady stream of fire, she could see Charon working his way up on the left, adding his fire to her own. Soon, he was in position to assault them and the mercs were pinned in a crossfire. When Charon popped up to toss a grenade, Fiona poured on the fire until she heard the sharp crump of the grenade exploding. When she saw Charon moving towards the mercs, she lifted her fire and ducked down to change magazines. She heard Charon's shotgun fire four times in rapid succession, then after a long pause, once more.

"ALL CLEAR!" yelled Charon.

Fiona, smiling, ran to meet him. "That was close. But man, we sure showed them who not to mess with, huh?" Charon's only response was a stern look. "What?" Fiona asked. "What's wrong?"

"Why did you do that?" he asked crossly. "You could have been killed!"

Shocked, Fiona stood silently for a moment. The shock wore off quickly as her own anger built. "Well _you_ could have been killed too. And this way you weren't! What are you all pissed-off about?" Fiona half screamed, and half cried.

Charon took a deep breath to calm himself but he couldn't help a trace of frustration from creeping into his voice. "It is my job to protect you. Not the other way around." He paused to collect his thoughts and finished his statement. "When you needlessly throw yourself into danger, it makes it that much harder to protect you" he said, in a lecturing tone.

Fiona's mood turned from confused to angry. "_Needlessly_? Sorry I make your _job_ hard, Charon" she spat. "I understand you _had_ to protect me because you don't have a choice." She shut her eyes and felt her jaw clench. "The last time you got pinned down and I couldn't help you, you almost died!"

The two stared at each other in silence but after a few moments, they realized there was nothing more to say for now. They turned away and looted the bodies of the Talon mercs without speaking to each other. When they finished, they nodded to each other wordlessly and walked back to the boat. Charon's face was still tight with tension as he righted the boat and helped Fiona inside. As they paddled across the river, he could feel her gaze on the back of his neck. He almost felt like apologizing. Almost. But the lecture had been for her own good. She had to learn to be more careful. As he thought about how to impress this upon her, Fiona broke the silence.

"Charon?" she called softly from behind him.

"Yes?" he responded.

"I'm sorry I scared you" she said, apologetically.

His eyes snapped open wide as the truth hit him like a brick. He had been scared, but not of losing an employer, someone he was bound by a contract to protect. He had been afraid to lose her… lose Fiona. He felt a flush of embarrassment as he realized that the real target for his anger was himself.

Turning to look at her, his face softened. "And I am sorry that I scolded you." He searched for the right words to express his thoughts and he spoke very carefully. "And yes, I _do_ have to protect you as a duty of my contract. However… I _want_ to as well."

"Really?" Fiona asked quietly.

"Yes, really." Charon sighed with resignation. It made her happy when he "shared" so perhaps now was a good time. "You are a good person. You have been kind to me and I… enjoy your company."

Smiling again, which relieved Charon greatly, Fiona replied "I enjoy your company too."

As he felt a warm glow in his stomach, he was careful to stamp it out before it got out of hand. _She's nice to you. You get along. Don't get too complicated with this shit. You just haven't had anyone act human towards you in forever…That's all._

The rest of the short voyage was quiet. As they reached the opposite bank of the river and secured their boat, Fiona glanced to the north and scrunched her face. "I am going to have a chat with Grandma Sparkle when we head back towards Megaton. I know I heard those mercs mention her, and no one else was around when we took the boat."

"Do you think she's working with them?" Charon asked.

"I'm not sure. Maybe they paid her for info or maybe she's just stupid. We'll find out though," Fiona said resolutely.

* * *

Walking in the direction of Rivet City took them directly past the Jefferson Memorial. It had only been a day and a half since they'd left the site, leaving a note for her father in case of his return. As they approached, Charon could see Fiona waging a war in her own mind, her mouth twitching back and forth, brows furrowing and eyes darting from the memorial to the floating city in the distance. "We can check in to see if your father has returned if you like," he saved her trouble of deciding.

"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't hurt," Fiona replied, thanking him with a sheepish smile.

They entered carefully and quietly in case any Super Mutants had returned. Rounding corners slowly and sweeping each area with weapons drawn, they were thankful when they didn't encounter any hostiles. The room they had slept in two nights ago was exactly as they had left it, note and all. No sign of her father's return.

"Well, it hasn't been that long," Fiona reassured herself out loud. "We'll come back in two weeks like we said and he'll have made it back by then." She tried to keep her voice upbeat but the disappointment in her eyes betrayed her. "Onwards then, I guess."

The pair exited through the gift shop entrance on the side, continuing east towards Rivet City, once again on the familiar route. As the old aircraft carrier appeared in front of them, it was easy to see the split down the middle where the ship had once been whole. Staring at it now, the broken bow section of the ship seemed to taunt Fiona, daring her to find its secrets. From what she had heard, there had to be something in there, even if it was only a mirelurk infestation. She sincerely did not want to face a bunch of those crab creatures again. But, as usual, her curiosity demanded satiation. She slowed her pace and stared at the rusty metal walkway leading to the hatch on the side of the broken section.

She'd heard from residents that the hatch was locked tight and the few people who had tried to enter had failed. Examining the bow that had once been attached to the rest of the ship, she wondered if there was some way to gain access from below by swimming. She abruptly abandoned that idea as ludicrous. Even if there was, she had no way of knowing how long she'd have to swim or through which corridors she could gain access. Plus if there were mirelurks, she wanted to meet them on solid ground, not fight them in the water.

_Impossible locked hatch it is then,_ she thought. Charon could already see the wheels turning in her head when she asked "Did you learn any special lock-picking skills in the army, Charon?"

"Not in the army, no. I… ran with a bad crowd growing up." He crossed his arms and stared at the hatch Fiona was eyeballing. "You're think Pinkerton is really in there?"

"Maybe. It might be nothing, but what if he is? Every legitimate medical and tech professional in the wastes says this android thing is a hoax. Well, we know it's not. Maybe we need to find someone a little less… professional" she mused.

"By less professional, do you mean more crazy?" he dead-panned.

"They prefer to be called _eccentric_. And yes." Fiona walked purposefully along the walkway towards the broken bow. Turning back to Charon, she added "I kinda like it when you're a smartass, by the way" she winked and smiled. "It works for you." She immediately turned her head forward, embarrassed, and rolled her eyes at herself thinking _Did I seriously just wink at him? Well, at least it didn't feel awkward… ugh. _Fiona was well aware that after his daring rescue yesterday, she felt a little different towards Charon. It made sense. He had gotten to her in the knick of time and saved the day like a hero. It was only natural to have an emotional reaction after something like that. _Just let the feelings pass,_ she told herself. _And don't do anything dumb… like making things weird by flirting._

She stopped and glared at the door as if her will alone might force the lock to yield. "Ok, let's crack this thing open" Fiona said, with fierce determination in her voice. There was a long silence as she continued to stare at the lock. "Charon, how do I get this thing open?"

He smiled and stepped forward. "Open sesame!"

Fiona stared at him dumbly.

_Sigh…_ "Before your time I guess. You'll need a couple of tools." Charon started to look through both of their packs as Fiona watched on with interest. Finally, Charon held up a pen and a pair of tweezers with a triumphant smile. He snapped the clip off the pen and set it aside. He pointed to the now L-shaped piece of flat metal. "This will work as a tension wrench." He then bent the tweezers open until they were flat and pulled out a small leather pouch of gun tools. He selected a small metal file and began to work it on the tweezers. After about 30 minutes, he had a small, thin hook-shaped tool. "And this will serve as a rake." He motioned Fiona to follow and they approached the locked hatch.

"It's similar to what you do with your bobby pins and screwdriver," he said, pointing to the locking mechanism. "Except a rake is a lot easier to work with." He slid the metal rake into the key hole. "Locks like these are pretty simple mechanically. They have a set of pins that all have to be raised at precise heights to clear the lock. The key is set so that the teeth raise the pins in exactly the right way. However, you can also move the pins using something else… like a rake." He pulled the rake out and lifted the tool to catch the light. "Meanwhile, you use the tension wrench to keep just a little bit of pressure on it in the direction the key would normally turn. That way as each pin catches, it's held up by friction while you work on snagging the others."

He inserted the tension wrench in the key hole and delicately nudged the tool down and to the right. "Now you can try to hit the pins with the rake." He inserted the rake in the keyhole and angled the point of the rake up, then pulled it in and out quickly. "With a rake, you can do this as many times as it takes, until eventually you hit the pins the right way." He looked away from the lock and closed his eyes. His face took on an air of quiet concentration. "It's not exact. Sometimes you get it after a minute, other times you could work at it for half an hour before it gives. But it's a lot better than a flimsy pin that breaks if you push too-" There was a click and spin, as the lock gave way. "-hard."

"Yes!" Fiona grinned.

Charon insisted on entering first, a wise decision. As soon as he stepped into the bow, he noticed a frag mine hidden underneath a crate. He signaled for Fiona to stay back and slowly approached it. He moved carefully but swiftly as he lifted the crate and immediately disconnected the detonator. The mine's frightful beeping ceased. Before taking another step, Charon scanned the room for any more traps. At the entrance to the next room was a tripwire rigged to drop a bunch of grenades bundled together. With Fiona still outside the door, he carefully snuck forward to disarm the delicate tripwire as well. With the room now clear, he motioned to her that she could safely follow.

"Well, at least this isn't a waste of time," he said in a low voice. "Clearly someone smart and paranoid is in here."

"It's gotta be him then," Fiona whispered excitedly as she tried to skip ahead. But Charon caught her by the collar and suddenly drug her backwards.

"Gas," he said pointing into the next room.

Sure enough, the next room was filled with a barely recognizable haze indicating a gas leak. His hand on her shoulder, he gently pushed her behind him and listened carefully. The distinctive sound of a mirelurk croaking could be heard from around the corner.

"Wanna do him like the mutants at the Jefferson?" she asked softly from behind him. She had tried to whisper closer to his ear but even standing on her toes the top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

Charon turned and gave her a wry smile. Pulling a grenade from his belt, he looked to Fiona and nodded. But instead of screaming some sarcastic remark to lure the beast into the gas-filled corridor… she sang.

"I don't want to set the world on firrrrre. I just to staaaaart, a flame in your heeeeeeeeart."

The mirelurk stopped croaking as it listened.

"In my heart I have but one deeeeesirrrre."

Heavy footfalls could be heard as the lurk jogged down the hall. Charon pulled the pin on the grenade and held the spoon down as he heard the mirelurk getting closer.

"And that one is yoooooooou…"

The mirelurk rounded the corner, saw them and charged into the chamber. Charon opened his hand to release the grenade spoon, counted to two and threw the grenade. In a synchronized motion, he and Fiona ducked behind the cover of the doorway. There was the now-familiar sound of the grenade exploding, followed by a gout of flame that shot out of the doorway past them. Over the rushing sound of the gas burning out, Charon could just barely hear the remainder of the verse as she continued to sing.

"No other will doooo."

As the air cleared, they peeked around the door frame to see the mirelurk roasted and dead, black chars in its shell. A roasted, fishy smell was now hanging in the air.

"Wow," Fiona said as she looked down at the dead creature. "Works. Every. Single. Time."

Beyond that point, they found a large sealed door with a computer terminal setup. However, after all the traps, Charon wisely chose to check the terminal for explosives. Not surprisingly, he found that it was rigged to detonate upon activation.

"Wow, this guy is paranoid as all hell…" Fiona mumbled.

"We should not underestimate him when we find him then" Charon added.

They carefully examined an activation switch on the wall across from the door for traps and found none. However, Charon still insisted she stand back while be pressed the switch. Holding her breath, Fiona watched as the large door released its locks and unsealed. They entered the makeshift lab slowly, guns at the ready and prepared for anything. Fiona and Charon scanned opposite corners of the room, as their guns shifted from side to side looking for targets. When they finished the search, what they found was a bit anticlimactic.

An old man was sitting at a desk, arranging papers. Looking annoyed, he glanced up at the pair and huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. "Well?" He stared at them expectantly. "This is the part where you tell me what the hell you're doing bothering an old man who obviously wants to be left alone. Get on with it already!"

Fiona stepped forward, promising herself to make a calm and polite introduction. "Are you Dr. Pinkerton, sir?"

"For the love of… woman, you don't even know who I am and yet you're here bothering me?" He stood and crossed the room aggressively as Charon moved to stand between them. Fiona reached out and put a reassuring arm on Charon's chest, pleading with her eyes to let him handle the situation herself. He nodded, but still stood at her side.

"I'm very sorry to bother you, Dr. Pinkerton. I just had to make sure it was really you and not… some charlatan posing as you. There are plenty of inferior minds out to imitate greatness, after all." _I really hope that worked,_ Fiona thought.

Like a charm, it did. Pinkerton immediately stopped and his expression softened. "Oh. Why, yes. Well, of course… I can hardly blame you then." He motioned for her to come closer.

Smiling triumphantly, Fiona gracefully stepped forward, giving Charon an 'I told you so' glance. The lab consisted primarily of computer equipment, mainframes, servers, etc. Clearly, tech was his passion. However, there was some medical equipment and an x-ray off to the side. Pinkerton seemed like the sort of man who could get lost in his work for months at a time. There a small bedroom area on top of a raised loft above, but aside from that, there were no personal touches. He was obviously the work-hard, play-never sort. Being shut off like this was probably due in part to paranoia and part to his wholehearted desire to be alone.

Fiona continued as she looked at his laboratory. "Sir, I have to admit I have heard mostly rumors about you. I have so many questions. You're a legend in the… wasteland scientific community. Therefore, it's been difficult to differentiate fact from fiction."

"Oh, well I would be happy to set the record straight," Pinkerton beamed. "I suppose I have shut myself off from the rest of the world for quite some time. But for good reason you see." His face grew grim and angry. "_Some_ scientists in the wasteland only care about politics and pipe dreams while the real geniuses, like me, go unappreciated. Well, it was only a matter of time before I got fed up! At least here I am free to work uninterrupted as opposed to the raucous environment of that infernal tub I used to call a research facility."

Fiona had no idea what he was talking about, but piecing together what he said and making some inferences, she was willing to take a guess. "Yes, I know what you mean," she began. "I visited the Rivet City lab a few days ago. Quite frankly, I was _underwhelmed_ by what I saw."

Pinkerton beamed. "Finally! Someone sees through Dr. Li and her pseudo-science!" he exclaimed. "That… that… harlot!… forced me out of the Rivet City council almost twenty years ago! She is a politician in a lab coat, _not_ a scientist," he huffed and began pacing around. "I helped found that entire city! Well, back then it was intended as a research facility when I came through with the Naval Research Institute crew. But soon enough people came flocking to settle down in the security of what I had created." He gave a heavy sigh. "It wasn't too bad at first but eventually, there were people everywhere! Then Dr. Li came along with her smooth words and promises of limitless fresh water supplies and stole my team away!"

Fiona perked up at the reference to what had to be Project Purity. "Oh? That sounds pretty incredible. Did uh, did it work?" She tried to keep her voice as unknowing as possible.

"Of course not! Do you see a tidal basin full of fresh water out there?" He gave a sarcastic snort. "That man she was so enamored with was the 'genius' behind that waste of time." He began pacing. "Don't remember his name now… but it doesn't matter anyway."

_Well, I was going to ask if he's seen dad, but obviously he hasn't,_ Fiona thought.

Pinkerton continued. "He was married, even! And she still mooned after him. That just shows her true lack of character better than words ever could" he said with a superior smirk. "Anyway, the project never went anywhere and by the time my team came crawling back, she had them firmly under her thumb. In a matter of months, she was taking my seat on the council of the city_ I _founded!" Pinkerton was good and angry now. Fiona desperately wanted to ask about the personal nature of Dr. Li's relationship with her father, but hesitated to reveal her identity to Pinkerton. The ousted founder snapped her back to reality as he kept on ranting. "I recorded the entire history of the development of the lab and the city, up until that last council meeting… not that anyone ever listened!"

"Actually, Dr. Pinkerton," Fiona interjected, "I am co-authoring a book about the Capital Wasteland and one of the chapters is about Rivet City. Why, if you would be willing to give me access to those notes, I could… set the record straight… for everyone to see!" Fiona hoped her enthusiasm was coming across as genuine.

Pinkerton lit up like a bank of lights. "Over there," he said. "On my terminal I have all the dirt from that last meeting of the council. You make sure you publish it all and let everyone know what a treacherous deceiver that Dr. Li really is!"

"I absolutely will, sir," she reassured him. _Well, there's one errand down. Actual documentation about Rivet City's founding. I'll ask about the android next._ Fiona downloaded the "dirt" from his terminal and noticed something else. There were entries about a recently performed surgery. She hesitated only for a moment before accessing the files. Fiona gasped aloud when she saw the image of his patient. _Shit. We have to stop Zimmer before its too late!_


	16. Chapter 16: Paranoid Android

**Author's Note:** Sorry it took a while to post. I got stuck on the fight scene but rather than stop working, I continued writing the the next chapter while I tried to bust through the writer's block on that particular scene. Hubs saved the day with some sweet fight choreography last night. By the time I got unstuck, the following chapter was already done. So now I have two chapters to post! Hope that helps. :)

Also, apologies for the _title_ of this chapter. I know it's been done before in fics describing this mission, but come on… who doesn't like that song?

* * *

Charon rushed to her side when he heard Fiona gasp. "What is it?" he asked with concern. In answer to his question, Fiona simply pointed to the screen. A picture of Rivet City's own grumpy security chief stared back at him next to post-surgical notes about his facial reconstruction. Charon let out a low whistle of surprise."Shit. Harkness said he'd be keeping an eye on Zimmer ever since that fight in the Science Lab. Hope he hasn't been sticking too close."

Pinkerton sauntered over to see what the fuss was all about. Fiona tried to cobble together some quick apology for the intrusion into those files, but it was not necessary. The old scientist beamed with pride when he saw what she had been looking at. "Ah," he began. "That was some of my most exciting work as of late. Very interesting technology from The Institute." He wore a proud smile and crossed his hands behind him.

"Ah, yes. Actually that was the reason I came here to see you, doctor," Fiona explained. "He is being hunted and could be in trouble so we were trying to find the scientist responsible for helping him hide…that's you I guess," She was cut off with a quick snort from Pinkerton.

"I was doing no such thing." Pinkerton almost looked insulted at the insinuation of humanitarian behavior. "I only wanted to take a look at the machine and see what made it tick." After a short pause he added, "Also, I wanted to rub Dr. Li's nose in it one day… Those bleeding heart morons from the Railroad would only agree to it if I helped hide the android. Well, there is no one else competent enough to perform the memory transplants or the facial reconstruction so they had to agree to let me poke around. It was fascinating, the kind of processing it was capable of…"

Fiona could only half listen as Pinkerton congratulated himself on his brilliance and spoke about Harkness like he was an object. _Well, technically he is, but still…_ Interrupting his monologue, Fiona said "Dr. Pinkerton, please listen. We need some way to re-implant those memories into the android. People are here looking to take him away and if he doesn't know he's being hunted it's only a matter of time before they find him." When Pinkerton barely reacted, she added "And then you might never get another chance to study Institute technology…"

Fiona knew she had hit the right button when Pinkerton responded. "Hmmm, that is true. That android was extremely fascinating and if it knew to defend itself, it could be around for quite some time… Yes. Perhaps you are right, young lady." He fished around in his desk as Fiona discretely downloaded the surgical data and recordings from his terminal. "Ah, here it is. I knew I wrote it down." He handed her a piece of paper with words on it that made no sense. Before she could ask, he clarified "This is a reactivation code for the android's original memories. I never deleted them, you see. I merely buried them and created new ones on the surface. But if this code is spoken aloud in its presence, the old memories will surface as well."

Smiling, Fiona thanked him. "This is a big help, sir. Thank you. Regardless of how you might feel about the Railroad, you have just saved a man's life."

Pinkerton thought for a moment before speaking. "I suppose it is rather… fascinating… the process of a machine becoming self-aware, that is. It definitely warrants further study. I'm only helping you so that it… _he_… stays around. Perhaps I can venture out once in a while to observe the android. Maybe even continue some of my research- " He paused when Fiona gave him a cold stare. Pinkerton sighed audibly before adding, "With consent of course…" As Fiona and Charon walked away, they could hear him grumble something under his breath about "do-gooders."

* * *

As Fiona and Charon crossed the bridge to enter Rivet City, they noticed that Chief Harkness was not outside serving as the city's "welcoming committee" like he was on their last visit. Fiona immediately began to worry. Approaching the guard on duty, she asked "Excuse me, where can I find Chief Harkness?"

"He's either in the market or somewhere in the Bridge Tower. Is there anything I can assist you with?" she asked.

"Oh no, I just needed to ask him about a few things," Fiona reassured the guard but she still gave the pair a suspicious look.

They proceeded into the market and searched around. Flak, at the gun shop, had not seen Harkness in almost an hour, which he found unusual since he said the chief spent much of his shift watching the market place. She asked the rest of the market vendors but got the same responses, as well as the same suspicious looks and rudeness towards Charon they had experienced on their last visit.

The woman running the chem shop was actually in her store today but had flatly ignored them and given them the coldest glare Fiona had experienced to date._ Come on lady… don't be such a bitch. Don't take out your anger on us because your husband is a junkie. _At least the other vendors had been willing to acknowledge them, despite their bigotry. As they left and headed towards the Bridge Tower, Fiona vowed to do as much business with Flak as she could, making sure the other vendors got as few of her caps as possible. He hadn't been _friendly_ to Charon, but he had not been rude.

Fiona walked the corridors of the old ship, hoping they would find Harkness soon. Zimmer may have already found him and if they were too late, she would never forgive herself. She also couldn't help but notice that they were seeing more security guards in the halls than they had last time. "Is it just me or are we running into a lot more guards than the first time we were here?" she asked Charon.

Charon nodded. "I believe they are keeping tabs on us."

Fiona followed the signs until she found the stairs that led up to the Bridge Tower where the security force was primarily housed. Searching each small level, they found several off-duty officers on break or sleeping in cots, but not Harkness. As Fiona began to worry, she increased her pace up the levels, rounding each corner at a jog. When they were near the top of the tower, she rounded one last corner and slammed into a very solid body.

Harkness reached out to catch her and keep her from falling backward on the stairs. For an instant, Fiona flinched and let out an embarrassing scream. For a moment she was back in the cave, running into Benji and being caught from falling again. Charon was only a few steps behind her but at the sound of her distress he was immediately at her back and pulling her gently away from Harkness. The feeling of his rough hand on hers provided instant comfort and Fiona collected herself.

Her panic subsiding, she found her words. "Chief Harkness! I'm glad I found you."

He gave the pair a calculating look. "You two again. I didn't realize you were back. Start any more brawls?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, Fiona continued. "Sir, I really need to speak to you about something. In private." She glanced over to the guards who were sitting at a nearby table eating, and motioned to the doors leading to the outer deck. He gave her a skeptical look. "Please, Chief Harkness. It's about a city resident who is in trouble." His face became serious. Harkness nodded and led them to the outside.

On the old flight deck of the ship, Fiona saw the remnants of a time long gone. Old machines littered the patchy metal surface. She recognized the shapes as flying machines from the pre-war days. With their broken engines and shorn wings, they seemed like stripped carcasses left carelessly scattered in the aftermath of a rampaging beast.

Reaching a safe distance from the door, Harkness turned around and faced her. "Well," he began, "who's in trouble and from what?"

Fiona hesitated, unsure of how to break the news. She didn't want to just blurt out the memory reactivation code and blindside him. But even with her proof, she knew Harkness was unlikely to believe his life was a lie. She had personal experience with life-changing revelations and knew that they could be hard to swallow. However, Fiona could see his growing impatience with each moment she remained silent. "Chief Harkness… it's you. And you're in danger of being abducted by Dr. Zimmer."

His skeptical face returned. "Uh huh. The frail old man wants to kidnap me. Makes total sense." His voice was flat and heavy with sarcasm.

_Dammit,_ Fiona thought. _I knew it'd go something like this._ "Chief Harkness, I'm serious. He thinks… well, he's from a place where they do a lot of scientific research and have accomplished some pretty amazing things. He-"

"Yeah, I know," said Harkness, cutting her off abruptly. "_The Institute._ He's been rolling his eyes at everyone and calling us all peons." He smirked. "It's made him _real_ popular. But I can't arrest someone for being an asshole. Oh, if only I could…"

"And do you know why he's here?" Fiona asked.

"Yeah, he says someone stole some specialized equipment and he's here looking for it. It's a bunch of BS. If there was advanced scientific tech here, Dr. Li would have already had an ecstatic aneurism over it."

"Well, yes. Except it is here but it's being well hidden. Dr. Li has no idea and Zimmer… well he hired me to find it. And I did." Fiona knew she should just spit it out, but she was about to change this man's entire life and… she was nervous. What if Harkness hated her afterwards? He had _wanted_ to forget his old life. Even if remembering it was for his own good… she knew how desperately she wanted to forget certain events. For a moment, she wondered if she had the right to unearth his forgotten past.

"Ok, so if you found it just give it to him so he can get the hell out of my city. And what does that have to do with him wanting to kidnap me?" Harkness was plenty annoyed now.

"Sir, trust me when I say you _really_ do not want me to hand the missing tech over to him…"

"Is it some kind of a weapon?" Harkness asked quickly.

"Well, it can be. But that's not its primary purpose. I don't think…" Fiona was starting to lose her nerve when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Charon looked at her calmly and nodded_._ Fiona took a deep breath. Raising her Pip Boy, she cued up the holotapes that Harkness had made before his surgery and began playing them.

"These things? Yea I heard about the android hoax, kid. Don't tell me you fell for it…"

"Please, just listen," Fiona begged.

As the tapes continued, Harkness' face grew concerned. The mention of Pinkerton roused his interest. When Fiona showed him the picture of the android, pre-surgery, Harkness shook his head. "Never seen him, kid." But then she switched to the post-surgical photo and Harkness' face turned to stone. In a voice that was all ice, he spoke through gritted teeth. "Not funny."

"It's not a joke, it's the tru-" but she was interrupted by his hand grabbing her firmly by the collar. Charon began to react, but Fiona waved him off. _Don't get into another android fight, Charon._ The Chief wasn't going to hurt her, and Charon was sure enough that he simply stepped forward and gave the man a warning glare rather than instantly attacking.

Harkness returned Charon's stare for a moment before slowly releasing Fiona's jacket. "Kid, if you think you can play some kind of elaborate prank on me, then think again. If you're sore about getting scolded for that fight in the Lab, then that's just tough. I was doing my job."

"Dammit…" she whispered to herself. It was going to come down to the code after all. Stepping forward and looking him in his steely blue eyes, Fiona begged his forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, Harkness." She sighed. "Please don't hate me. It's… it's for the best. Even if you evade Zimmer, they'll just keep coming…" Charon put his hand on her arm.

"You want me to do it, smoothskin?" he asked her softly.

She looked back at him and smiled. "No, but thanks. I'll do it," she said. Pulling the paper from her pocket, she read the code. "Activate _A3_-_21_ Recall _Code Violet._"

Harkness stood frozen for a moment, then grabbed his head and groaned in pain. Fiona jumped back, afraid he might lash out and Charon moved forward instinctively to shield her. Harkness stood stunned for nearly a full minute and she could see his pupils tracking rapidly from side to side as his body shook with a mild tremor. Finally, he sank to his knees, eyes distant and confused.

Fiona approached cautiously. "Harkness? Are you… Ok?"

He did not respond. He simply stared at his hands and the metal decking for a while. Eventually, he broke his silence. "Fuck. Me."

"Harkness? Do you… remember… stuff?" Fiona asked nervously.

"Oh yeah…I remember." He rose slowly, took a deep breath, and seemed to come to a decision. "Let's be clear," he began, looking wearily at Fiona. "I was a lot happier without those memories." Fiona's face fell. "But," he added quickly, "I understand why you felt you had to do it. Even if I never malfunctioned or got hit with any EMPs, I would have been really confused in twenty years when I hadn't aged at all." With a resigned sigh, he added, "Best to know, I suppose."

"So, what're you going to do about Zimmer?" Fiona asked.

His face went cold and dark. "I think Dr. Zimmer has overstayed his welcome in Rivet City." Harkness headed back into the tower with a determined gait. Fiona paused only for a moment before deciding to follow. She overheard Harkness asking one of his guards about Zimmer's current location. Apparently the old man was back in the Science Lab, looking for Fiona. Word had traveled somehow that she had returned and he was looking for her. _Damn,_ Fiona thought, _don't people have anything better to do than gossip? And how does word get around so fast?!_

As they hurried after him down the stairs, she turned to Charon. "Well, that went alright. He's not mad at _me_ at least." He grunted in response. "And hey, now we get to see an android fight!"

At that Charon picked up his pace, moving ahead of Fiona. He caught up with Harkness and got his attention before they reached the entrance to the Lab. "What is it?" the annoyed security chief asked.

"Mind if I handle his body guard?" Charon asked.

Fiona jumped. "What? Charon are you crazy? After last time?!"

"If I am the one to deal with Armitage, it may be possible to resolve this without revealing to the rest of the city that Harkness is an android as well," said Charon.

Fiona grasped his sleeve. "I don't want you to get hurt again."

"Last time we fought, I did not know what he was," Charon stated calmly. "If I had, I would not have been so careless. I am prepared for him now."

"Are you fucking serious?" said Fiona, crossing her arms in frustration. "Tell me the truth. Is this really about protecting Harkness or is it some sort of wounded male pride thing?"

Charon swore softly and looked away. He struggled for a bit before he answered. "If you must know the truth…I really want to kick his ass."

Mouth agape, Fiona finally managed to express herself. "Men. I swear to God… You just wanna kick his ass? Because of some machismo bullshit?"

Charon simply shrugged and nodded.

"Charon," said Fiona quietly, "He could _kill_ you."

Charon's eyes met hers with a look of utter sincerity. "Trust me."

The trio headed into the Science Lab where Dr. Zimmer and his artificial sentinel were standing in one corner and scowling at a very annoyed science team. He raised his head as the hatch opened and perked up at the sight of Fiona. His expression faltered, however, when he caught sight of the Security Chief following behind them. As they approached, Harkness sped up to take the lead and addressed Dr. Zimmer directly.

"Dr. Zimmer, You are being charged with conspiracy to abduct a Rivet City citizen," said Harkness with a business-like tone of impersonal authority. "Since no crime has yet been committed, I am ordering you to leave Rivet City within the hour. You will be escorted to your room by security personnel and allowed to pack and resupply for your journey back to where ever you came from. From this day forward you, will no longer be welcome here and no reentrance will be permitted."

Zimmer stood speechless and glared daggers at Fiona. "What have you done?!" he exclaimed. "Why is he here with these ridiculous charges? I just asked you to find my property!"

Harkness felt the skin tighten over his face as an icy shadow passed through him. "You were looking for your… property?"

"Yes!," Zimmer exclaimed. "I wasn't going to _abduct_ anyone. I was simply trying to get back what belongs to me!"

"I see. You just want what _belongs_ to you…" unnoticed by Zimmer, Harkness's voice had lowered to almost a whisper.

"Exactly!" Zimmer said with a hint of relief. "Finally, someone understands!" Zimmer stared accusingly at Fiona and Charon. Fiona just shrugged.

"Oh I understand, alright," said Harkness, his voice hoarse with barely restrained emotion. "I understand that all your fancy talk is just to cover up the fact that you're here to take someone back to a life of bondage. You're nothing but a common slaver!"

"It's just a _thing_!" Zimmer sighed. "The property I am looking for is _not_ a person. It's a machine! It might walk and talk like a person but that's because it's _programmed_ to do! Whoever you think I'm here to 'abduct' I can assure you that it's just a machine…worthless to anyone here."

"Ah." Harkness said quietly. An eerie calm descended over him and his voice took on an oddly distracted air. "I understand. Just a worthless machine…"

At this, Armitage dropped his air of casual disinterest and Zimmer took a step backwards, made wary by Harkness's sudden stillness. "Yes… that's exactly my point," said Zimmer, with a quaver of nervousness.

"Well, you sure traveled a long way to retrieve something _unimportant_, Zimmer. You know what I think? I think your _property_ has become very important over the last several months." Harkness stepped forward and his gaze bore into Zimmer's with sudden intensity. "_I_ think you are afraid that by your 'property' staying missing, it will give the other 'property' the one thing you can't afford them to have…hope."

Zimmer's eyes went wide with recognition. "A3-21?"

Harkness narrowed his eyes and spoke in a whisper, "Not anymore." With one fluid motion, Harkness drew his plasma rifle and fired into Zimmer with inhuman speed. As the plasma blast tore through the elderly man's torso, Zimmer's face froze in an expression of surprise. He wore that expression all the way to the ground as his body crumpled and dropped in place.

Armitage froze, looking into the barrel of the plasma rifle as Harkness shifted to face him. A large gloved hand suddenly pushed the barrel down and Harkness turned to look at Charon.

"We had a deal," said Charon, pointing his chin at Armitage. After a pause, Harkness lowered his plasma rifle and stepped back. Charon turned to face the android bodyguard. "Rematch, champ." Charon slapped an enormous fist into his palm.

At this, Armitage smiled faintly. He gave an exaggerated bow and put his hands up in a loose guard. Charon began to circle Armitage warily, his eyes searching for any opening. There was none of the over-confident aggressiveness of his previous encounter. _Let's see what you've got, _thought Charon as his left flicked out two lightning-fast jabs at Armitage. The punches were dodged easily, the android's head bobbing back with oily smoothness.

Charon immediately swung his leg in an arcing kick towards the android's side and smiled when he saw Armitage raising his forearm to block. He knew from experience that with the torque he could generate from his massive frame, the sheer force of his kick would move his target regardless of whether it was blocked or not. Charon's leg shivered slightly as he made contact with Armitage's arm. There was a comical look of surprise on the android's face as he tumbled over off-balance. _Surprise, fuckface! Being a machine don't count for shit if I'm lifting your center of gravity over your feet. _Charon closed quickly, his fist cocked for a tremendous blow.

Suddenly, Charon saw stars and he was stepping back, holding his nose. He tasted copper in the back of his throat and he knew his septum was probably broken. _On the other hand, I guess being a machine has its perks, _Charon thought sourly. Armitage stood, wagging a mocking finger at him. "I can kick too," said Armitage with a smirk. He exploded into a flurry of kicks and it was all Charon could do to block the whirlwind of attacks as he backpedaled. The ghoul felt a sharp pain in his chest and then he was falling backwards as a kick glided past his defenses.

Armitage charitably allowed Charon to return to his feet before he pressed the attack again. Fists flew rapidly and Charon was on his heels again, dodging and weaving backwards away from the android's furious barrages. He slipped a punch to his face only to double over in pain as he felt an iron fist crack into his side. In desperation, his fist lashed out as he bent and Charon watched with satisfaction as the bodyguard's head whipped back from the impact. However, Charon's hopes were dashed as Armitage's face snapped back with a grin. He saw the android cock his fist back and he braced for impact.

Charon was vaguely aware that he was completely off his feet as he flew through the air. The impact of the 7 ft-tall ghoul landing on the deck was tremendous and he lay stunned for a few moments. Armitage walked leisurely towards his fallen opponent as he struggled to his feet. Charon stumbled backwards before catching his balance and looked behind him. He saw the open hatchway to Dr. Li's room and he knew he was running out of room to retreat.

"Charon!" Fiona's cry drew his attention and he saw Fiona at the other end of the lab, struggling in Harkness' arms as he held her , Charon's head whipped from side to side as Armitage's fists landed, first left than right. He reeled back on shaky feet and he saw Armitage winding up for a side kick, moving slowly like he had all the time in the world. Charon's hands looked like they were moving in slow motion as the kick slid past them and into his chest.

He slid backwards and felt his heels catch on the bottom lip of the hatchway to Dr. Li's quarters. Arms flailing, he fell heavily. The battered ghoul lifted his head weakly, then rolled to his side. Armitage approached the open hatchway and looked inside. He could see Charon struggling to get up. After an enormous effort, he slowly rose to his hands and knees. Armitage could see his enormous torso rising up and down, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Shaking his head in mock pity, Armitage stepped through the hatchway until he stood in front of his struggling opponent. He bent down and with little effort, he lifted Charon's head by his lower jaw until they were eye to eye. Silently, the pitiless android examined his foe, turning Charon's face from side to side as the ghoul's weak blows hammered away at his arm ineffectually.

"Do you know what the definition of insanity is?" asked Armitage, with a triumphant grin. "It's doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result." His left hand squeezed into a fist, ready to deliver the coup de grâce.

Suddenly, Charon's gaze locked with the android's. "Call me crazy, then."

Armitage only had a split-second to look surprised before Charon's body exploded upwards, shrugging off the illusion of exhaustion. Charon held Armitage in a tight hug, well inside the reach of the android's inhumanly strong arms. The surprise move carried them both off their feet and Armitage felt himself flying backwards towards the open hatchway. As they descended, still in a clinch, Charon snaked his forearm over his enemy's face. There was a tremendous crash as the combined weight of the bodies landed and Charon smashed downwards on the face below him. Armitage felt the cold kiss of the hatchway frame on the back of his neck a millisecond before it was crushed over the metal lip.

Charon rose to his feet carefully, with only traces of the weakness that he had displayed just a moment ago. Armitage struggled at his feet, his broken neck laying on the hatchway frame. His lower body struggled to move and his head shifted weakly from side to side. Charon hadn't known with certainty, but he had gambled that androids advanced enough to mimic humans flawlessly might replicate human physiology mechanically as well. _Almost too well,_ thought Charon as he watched the paralyzed android's eyes darting wildly in an analogue of fear.

"Agh..agh…" choked out Armitage.

"I think the word you're looking for is… ouch," said Charon, mirthlessly. He raised a foot and stamped down savagely on the android's head, severing it completely from the body.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note**: Inspiration for the killing blow comes from the movie 'The Raid". It happens around 2:58 in the clip. Warning: it's too badass for minors.

Www dot youtube dot com/ watch?v=W9BCa5Ijprw&feature=share&list=PL41CDD76CFBB59758


	17. Chapter 17: Date Night

Charon walked casually across the lab towards Fiona, who ran the last few paces to him. She paused to glare at him. "I don't know if I should yell at you for scaring me like that or congratulate you on being such a badass… I think I'll do both!" She broke into a grin and raised her hand in the air for a "high-five" and after some hesitation, Charon returned the gesture, slapping her hand softly with his much larger one. Fiona immediately turned and punched him in the shoulder. "And _that_ was for scaring the shit out of me!"

Charon shook his head lightly and grinned. "You know, violence on your part invalidates the contract," he said dryly.

Fiona merely rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure that really hurt. Now sit down over there," she said pointing to an empty corner of the lab. "I'm going to check you for injuries… and yes, I know you have some after that fight." Charon complied and sat on the floor as Fiona stripped off his jacket and began administering Stimpaks for his fractures. "Charon…" she asked hesitantly as she examined his swelling jaw, "what was the _point_ of doing that? You could have just shot him and gotten your… manly vengeance, or whatever."

Charon turned his head to meet her gaze. He knew that, per her orders, he didn't have to answer since the truth was a bit embarrassing. But he chose to anyway. "The first time you ever saw me fight hand-to-hand… I got my ass kicked."

"Yeah, by an _android_, Charon."

"I know," he replied. "Still, at the time I was afraid you would doubt my combat abilities after such a loss." Before Fiona could make a retort Charon held her gaze and continued. "I suppose I had… something to prove."

Fiona's gaze went soft. "Well color me impressed macho man…" she snorted, "as if I wasn't already. But now that you've proven your toughness beyond a shadow of a doubt, I don't _ever_ want you to take an unnecessary risk like that again. Do you understand?" Charon nodded silently. She was so impressed/angry with her friend that she almost didn't see a very nervous Dr. Li approaching them.

"Fiona?" Li asked. "What was all that about?"

Fiona was in no mood to have a drawn out conversation with the doctor, especially after the imagery she had gotten from Pinkerton. "What does it look like, Li?" Fiona replied emotionlessly. "Zimmer got popped and Charon took out his crazy bodyguard." She said barely under her breath "And you're supposed to be the smart one?"

Li ignored the insult. "Well, I got that much. But why? What were the charges?"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Fiona snapped, lifting up part of Charon's shirt to tend to his ribs. "If you want to gossip all day, why don't you go talk to Vera Weatherly?"

Dr. Li was taken back by Fiona's change in tone from the last time they'd talked. Suddenly, Dr. Li feared the worst. "Did… did you find James?" she asked with a slight tremor of fear.

Fiona sighed, calming herself down. She knew she shouldn't be acting like this. She didn't know the full story about Dr. Li and her father and even so, Dr. Li had done nothing to anger her personally. "Sorry, Dr. Li," she began. "I didn't find him. I'm just… really frustrated and stressed. I didn't mean to snap at you."

Dr. Li looked dejected. "Oh, so he wasn't at the purifier. I don't… I don't understand. Where else would he be?"

"He had been there recently," Fiona assured her. "His notes said he was leaving to find information on some old tech. So he'll be heading back there soon I hope."

Dr. Li sighed, relieved. "James never could sit still." She looked up as a security detail came pouring into the lab. "Oh goodness, I'd better direct them so they don't interfere with any of the experiments." The scientist jogged off after the officers.

As security took care of the bodies and cleaned up, Harkness took a place standing next to Fiona and watched everything from a distance. "When Zimmer never returns to the Institute, it'll be one hell of a sign to the other androids who want to escape. I got away… and it'll be a symbol. I think he was afraid of that more than anything." After a moment of silence he sighed, and added "I know I don't technically require liquid… but I really want a drink."

Turning from examining Charon's wounds, Fiona said "I don't blame you. I know it's not the exactly the same, but I know what it's like to find out nothing you used to believe is real. I was lied to about my whole life and didn't find out the truth until a few months ago. Harkness, if you ever want to talk about it…"

He thought for a moment. Looking down at Fiona, Harkness smiled softly. "What I am isn't really something I can advertise to folks around here, so it's not like I can discuss it with the other officers after a long day. And I'm still pretty… confused. I _would_ like to to talk I think. Get drunk and talk. You game?" he asked her.

Smiling, Fiona said, "That sounds perfect. And I'm pretty sure Charon would like a few shots after that epic fight, huh big guy?" Charon, looking very satisfied with himself, nodded. Fiona finished tending to the last wound and lowered Charon's shirt back down.

"Oh…" Harkness replied, "well ok. Let's go then." He led the way down to the bottom levels and into the Muddy Rudder bar. Fiona and Charon had not made it down to the Rudder on their last visit to Rivet City and upon entering, Fiona could see they had not missed much. They descended some stairs into a dank room with several tables, many of them empty this time of day, and a small bar. The woman standing behind it turned and gave them a wary look, until she saw Chief Harkness coming up behind them. Upon seeing that they were with the Chief, she seemed to relax a bit.

"Hey, Belle," he began. "Give me a whiskey… actually, make that the _whole_ bottle. And for them…" He looked to Fiona and Charon for their orders.

"Just a beer for me," said Fiona.

Charon nodded. "Same." While Charon would have liked something stronger, he did not want to be so much as tipsy while Fiona was out in the open like this. He didn't expect any trouble, but was not willing to take a chance. He also did not like the way Harkness was looking at her and he wanted to stay sharp. Charon was finding he did not like the way most men looked at her.

The surly woman handed over their drinks and Harkness politely refused to let Fiona pay for anything. "Seriously, buying you… both of you… a drink is the least I can do," he insisted.

They made their way over to a small table in the corner where the proprietor would not be able to eavesdrop. Harkness gave a long sigh, then began drinking. With gusto. After a few minutes he spoke. "Everything. All of it. My whole life… was a lie." His eyes were distant as he seemed to be recounting some far away memory. "And I remember everything like it really happened to me. Growing up, my wife leaving me, everything from before coming here… it's real… to me. Or it was to someone. Whoever's memories these were." He raised the bottle to his lips again. Fiona wondered if he was even capable of getting drunk. If so, he would be getting there pretty fast.

"And I remember my 'real' life too. Both sets of memories are in me. I remember the Institute, Zimmer, my old job hunting down escaped androids…" At the last statement Fiona looked up, surprised. "I know," he added. "Ironic. I worked at the 'Snyth Retention Bureau' which was a fancy term for hunting other androids who became self-determined." He paused for another swig of whiskey. "So many people, good innocent people… I hunted them down because it was what I was _supposed_ to do. But eventually, I started to see things the way they did. I became aware. And I wanted freedom too.

"Being one of the best 'Retention Officers' in the Bureau, I was able to evade them and make it this far. The Railroad was a huge help too. Kinda surprising that there are people like that still left in this world. People who will go out of their way for others, even when they won't benefit from it. Hell, even when it is dangerous for them, even." At that, he gave Fiona a very warm smile and reached across the table to gently touch her hand. "But I'm glad there are. I really owe you one."

Fiona was glad to see Harkness opening up like this. "I came from a vault," she began. "I was told my whole life that there was nothing up here but death. I was also told I was born down there and no one had ever left. Turns out all of it was bullshit." She took a long swig of her beer. "When I first got up to the surface, I was pretty discouraged by a lot of the people I met, too. It seemed like even the decent people in this world were thinking mostly of themselves. I guess it's a necessity out here. But every once in a while I meet someone who gives me hope and I try to pay it forward."

There was a moment of mutual contemplation until Harkness broke the silence. "You know, I was so afraid to lose my memories, my face… but all I wanted to do was forget. Now, looking back, I know it wasn't the wisest decision but… I'm glad I got to forget for a little while. I got to be Harkness, just Harkness. Not A3-21. Now I'm… both I guess."

"Which one should I call you?" Fiona asked.

He paused and considered. Smiling at her he replied "Keep calling me Harkness. It's a good name and it's what everyone else knows me as."

Fiona held up her beer for a toast. "To new beginnings?" Harkness raised his bottle and Charon joined in as well.

"I'll drink to that," Harkness said. Charon merely grunted.

Fiona noticed that, while Charon had opened up to her in the last few days, he was still very guarded around strangers. _Well, I can't say I blame him. It'll just take some time. Of course it doesn't help when people treat him like a pariah. _A thought occurred to her. "Harkness? Could I ask a favor?"

"Name it."

"Well, do you think you could get your security guys to…ease up on us? I mean, I know they've been watching and following us as soon as we got here. I think we've proven we're not going to be any trouble…" With that Harkness gave her a sly look. "Ok, well we're not going to _start_ any trouble. We might finish it though," she smirked and finished the last of her beer.

"Done." He paused with a guilty look on his face. "Sorry about the extra attention they paid you. After your last visit I uh… told them to keep extra eyes on you two." He glanced over at Charon and added, "Well, mostly extra eyes on your guard there. Sorry, man." Charon merely shrugged and grunted. "But yeah, I'll let them know you two are alright."

Once they had finished their drinks, Harkness walked them out of the bar with his half-full bottle still in hand. Despite the quantity of alcohol he'd consumed, he showed only minor signs of intoxication. "So, uh… where are you headed now?" Harkness asked her with more than casual curiosity.

"Well, right now we're headed to the market. I've got some stuff to trade. We'll probably spend the night here though." Fiona said matter-of-factly, oblivious to the tone of Harkness' voice. "We've got enough caps to afford the hotel. It'll feel really nice to have a decent bed in a safe city. Last night, we slept on the office floor of an old factory, and in the Jefferson the night before that" she said, gesturing with her head towards Charon.

Harkness took a careful step towards her. "The Jefferson?" he asked. Then it hit him. "Damn," he said. "I was so concerned with my own problems I forgot to ask you… Did you find your father?"

Fiona hung her head. "No, not yet. But I know where he's headed and I know he'll be heading back to the Jefferson eventually. I'm coming back to check in a few weeks hoping to catch him."

"Good," Harkness replied softly. "Be sure to stop by when you're back in town then." Pausing, he added "I, uh, I came off pretty cold a few days ago. Just wanted to apologize for that. Glad you got some answers and I hope you find him soon."

"Thanks, Harkness." Fiona smiled and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Kid," he hesitated. "Fiona, I mean. I want to give you something." He reached around and took the plasma rifle off of his back. Charon immediately tensed but Harkness reassured him. "Easy, big guy." He extended the weapon to her. "I want you to have this." Fiona's eyes went wide as she examined the weapon. She was no expert on energy weapons… or any weapons for that matter… but it didn't look standard. She saw definite signs of after-market enhancements. "I modded and upgraded this rifle myself," he continued. "It's still compatible with standard plasma weapon parts, so you can get it repaired no problem. But it's got a lot more power, and it's more durable too." Fiona hesitated to accept the gift. "Please, take it," he insisted.

Fiona accepted it in awe, never having owned anything this rare or expensive before. "Harkness, are you sure? These things are… expensive."

"I'm sure." He looked away for a moment before turning back to her with wry smile. "You gave me back my life."

Fiona couldn't help but feel honored as she held the weapon reverently. Charon felt bothered by the whole exchange for some reason he couldn't put his finger on. Then he began to get bothered by the fact that he couldn't figure out why he was bothered. He was deep in thought walking away when it came to him, and then he was really bothered. _Shit. I think I'm jealous._

* * *

It didn't take them long to finish trading at the market, since they only went to one vendor. Flak certainly appreciated the extra caps. His partner, Shrapnel, was also in the shop when they returned. He was not nearly as personable as Flak, which wasn't saying much. However, like his friend, he was just as rude to Charon as he was to every other person he encountered. Fiona could respect an equal opportunity asshole.

Carrying the Chief's signature rifle around on her back earned Fiona quite a few stares. However, Flak was the only one bold enough to comment.

"Isn't that the Chief's gun?" he asked, craning his head to look at the plasma rifle.

"Yeah, he uh… gave it to me as a thank you gift just now," Fiona said sheepishly.

Flak chuckled a bit under his breath. "As a thank you, huh?" His crooked smile and raised eyebrow was all the insinuation that needed to be expressed.

Fiona heard a something like a growl rumble deep in Charon's chest behind her and she acted quickly to diffuse the situation. "There was a massive fight in the Science Lab and we covered him. So yeah, as a thank you… for saving his ass_,_" Fiona said sternly.

Flak, laughing, raised his hands in surrender. "Ok, gotcha! Wasn't tryin' to imply you ain't a lady." He looked at Charon and added, "And don't get all spun up over a joke, man. Whether she had or not, couldn't care less." Shrapnel mumbled something from the other side of the shop that sounded like "God damn right" but couldn't be heard clearly.

Fiona purchased lots of microfusion cells for her new rifle as well as ammo for all of their weapons. The few miscellaneous healing supplies the former-slaver had in stock she purchased as well. She also sold lots of their scavenged supplies. By the time they were finished, Fiona had spent more than she'd sold, but not by much. With her reward from the library, and the caps she stole from Benji, they still had well over 2,000 caps. Fiona could afford to live a little.

Turning happily to Charon, she announced "Those mirelurk cakes smell really good. Wanna grab some dinner?" He nodded and followed her to the small restaurant, Gary's Galley. They sat at one of the tables, away from the rest of the crowd and waited for the young waitress to acknowledge them. The girl had seen them right away but looked hesitant to approach their table. Fiona sighed. Smiling, she made eye contact with the young waitress and waved her over. To her credit, the girl plastered a smile on her face despite her discomfort and took their orders professionally.

As they ate, Fiona could tell Charon looked very distracted by something. His face was tight and his gaze seemed worried and far away. _He's probably not used to large crowds, much less crowds of smoothskins, after all that time in Underworld_, she thought_. _She spoke to him in a soft voice. "I'm sorry people are such assholes, Charon."

He looked up, confused. "It is not your fault. You don't need to apologize for them." He returned his focus to his meal.

"Still," she continued, "I hope things will be better in Megaton. I mean, there is another ghoul who lives there but… well, he's not exactly a citizen…"

"A slave?" Charon asked matter-of-factly.

Sighing she said, "Yeah, and the asshole that has him reminds me a little of Ahzrukhal." She noticed Charon's jaw tense. "When I first found out, I didn't have nearly enough caps but I still wanted to help him. I thought about saving up to pay off the 'debt' that Moriarty says he owes. But when I asked around, it turns out the Church of Atom people already tried paying off his debt a few times and Moriarty refused to take their caps. He's just never going to let him go…"

"Never heard of any… Church of Atom" Charon said.

"It's a cult in Megaton that worships the bomb and radiation in general. They actually think ghouls are blessed in a way." Charon's face was incredulous. "Yeah, I know. They're harmless though. Crazy but harmless. Anyway, there are some assholes in town but there are good people there too. People who won't hassle you." She looked up sheepishly from her plate. "I really hope you like it there."

Charon relaxed and pointedly ignored the stares from the other citizens. Smiling, he said "I'm sure it will be fine."

There was very little to do after dinner so Fiona opted to explore the city. She found a museum dedicated to pre-war history as well as a church for one of the old world religions. The proprietors of both were older men who were a bit too pushy about their establishments. Somehow, they ended up back on the top of the ship, wandering the deck. Looking at the ruined planes and pointing excitedly, she asked Charon "Did you ever fly in one of those?"

"Not those exactly," he answered as they made their way over to one of the old machines. "I wasn't in the Air Force. I was Army. But I did fly on bigger planes. I flew commercial a few times." Responding to Fiona's questioning look he explained. "Commercial means those were big planes that anyone could fly on if they bought a really overpriced ticket." He smirked. "Also, I flew in military aircraft when we were traveling to different theaters. But I wasn't the one piloting. I was just there to ride." Charon let the memories come back to him slowly. He'd thought more about the pre-war era in the last two days than he had in the last two years.

"Did it really go hundreds of miles per hour? Did it… hurt?" Her fascination amused Charon.

"Yes, it did go that fast. But when you were inside one of them, it was hard to feel just how fast you were going. It doesn't mess with your senses too much. And it didn't hurt."

Fiona was standing next to one of the ruined crafts now, slowly running her hands up and down the nose. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent. After a few minutes, she simply turned around and headed towards the hatch leading back inside, Charon at her heels. Finally, she spoke. "Ready to settle in for the night?" Charon nodded.

Their hotel room was hardly posh, but still nice by wasteland standards. The centerpiece was a queen sized bed with linens that had seen better days. However, it also boasted a desk, wardrobe, filing cabinet and table. Sighing heavily, Fiona flopped down on the bed. Ms. Weatherly had been warm towards her at first, telling her about how she'd already sent for Bryan and he would be arriving in a few days with one of the caravans. However, she turned a bit standoffish when Fiona only requested one room for both herself and Charon. But Fiona decided to ignore the insinuating glances of the woman and took the room key with a smile and a thank you.

When Charon began to lay out his bedroll at the far end of the room, Fiona shot up. "Charon, you can have the bed. Sorry, I just sort of… flopped down without thinking."

"No, you should have the bed," Charon insisted. "I am accustomed to sleeping on the floor."

Fiona suddenly realized what he meant. "That bastard didn't give you a bed either?" Charon simply shook his head. "In that case… I order you to take the bed tonight," she said firmly, pointing to the mattress. She hopped up and threw her bedroll down on the floor next to it. Charon hesitantly stepped forward, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. It had been half a century since he'd slept in a real bed. And before that, the beds he did have were nothing fancy.

"You are sure about this?" he asked.

"Positive," Fiona replied. "And when we get to Megaton, we'll get you a mattress. Right now… well there's not much in the house." She laughed softly to herself. "In _my_ house… feels really weird saying that. But it is. It's mine." Turning to Charon, who was still perched on the edge of the mattress, she added "It's a decent size. I think you'll like it. There are two bedrooms upstairs… so you can have a room of your own. There's a little loft area, a kitchen and living room downstairs. Oh! I have a Mr. Handy robot too, just like the one out front at the hotel desk. I named him Wadsworth." She was getting excited just thinking about going back home.

Fiona got up from the floor and took off her boots. "Come on, Charon." She jumped onto the mattress and sat down at the foot of the bed. "Let's take a load off." Removing his boots he sat down and positioned himself near the headboard. She saw him try to hide a smile as he leaned back, crossed his legs and tucked his feet and their threadbare socks underneath him. For almost fifty years, he had slept on the floor and not been allowed to speak his mind. These changes, while pleasant, were coming very quickly.

Fiona could sense a bit of his discomfort. "You deserve so much better than what you were used to with Ahzrukhal. You know that, don't you?" Fiona asked.

Charon nodded and spoke softly. "Ahzrukhal was the worst employer I'd ever had and I was aware that I…deserved…better. But I never expected it. From him or anyone." As much as he loved the prospect of being able to sleep in a real bed, Charon hated the idea of Fiona sleeping on the floor as he did so. The role reversal made him a bit uneasy. The bed was made for two, but there was no way he would suggest sharing if she had not brought it up.

Fiona smiled warmly at him. "It's too bad he couldn't hire you out as a merc. You would have at least gotten a break from him once in a while."

Charon snorted. "Ahzrukhal was full of shit. It's actually not against my contract for him to 'rent me out'… as a merc or uh, otherwise. But people in Underworld were too afraid of me to ever consider either option, so no decent offers ever got made. Trust me," he said, relaxing and lighting a cigarette, "if he'd had the opportunity to make decent caps from pimping me out, he would have." Charon shuddered involuntarily and rose to retrieve an ashtray before settling back down on the mattress. "As it was, he sent me out to run errands, collect debts and 'enforce' on people and I was away from him while I did so. It would not have violated my contract for him to let you hire me for a few weeks." Charon paused. He blew out some smoke thoughtfully, debating whether or not to utter his next words. "I'm actually glad he lied about it. That bastard's greed worked out for me in the end."

Fiona smiled. "I'm glad too." There was an awkward silence as they both searched for things to say. Fiona spoke first. "So, uh… Charon if you're tired I can shut up and let you rest."

"No," he said a bit too quickly. "If you wish to converse, than I will converse with you." He wasn't sure why he was nervous but the memorized response from his Institute days was the first thing that popped into his head.

"Ok. Charon, could we talk some more like we did last night? I mean, before I got all drunk and weird on you…" Fiona laughed. "No whiskey for me tonight, I swear!"

Charon nodded. "Yes, that would be fine. What would you like to know?"

Fiona considered for a moment. "Well, how about that 'bad crowd' you ran with, Mr. 'Break and Enter'?" she teased.

Charon rolled his eyes. "It was not as bad as you think. Just… stupid kid stuff." He paused for a moment to dredge up the old memories. "It was just me and a few guys from the neighborhood. Fuck, I don't even remember their names now. Anyway, we never hurt anyone or even stole anything all that valuable. I guess we did it… just to see if we could. I was bored and wanted to see what I could get away with."

"So, like a gang?"

"Pfft," Charon snorted. "No, it was definitely not a gang. We might have _thought_ we were at the time, but we were teenagers. Idiots."

"Ah," Fiona said. "So teenagers are idiots, are we?" She smiled slyly.

"Well, most are. There are exceptions." He returned her smile. "And teenage _boys_ are always idiots. No exceptions there."

With that Fiona let loose a genuine belly laugh. "Now that I've been out here a few months, I can see that _so_ clearly!" She adjusted herself slightly on the mattress and leaned forward. "We had a 'gang' back in 101. It was just a few of the guys around my age trying to act tough. They called themselves the 'Tunnel Snakes' and ran around bullying people, mostly. Definitely idiots. Pretty harmless looking back on it. The whole 'gang' was just one guy with a tiny knife and a few assholes who liked to follow him." She paused and rubbed her neck nervously. "Well, also the one guy I dated, Freddie, was in that gang but he was… harmless. Just a follower really. He only did it for acceptance, I think. Which is just as pathetic as it sounds. But he uh… he had problems so… anyway." Fiona cleared her throat. "It's so hard to believe that at one time I was actually intimidated by their 'leader.' I never let it show, but…" her voice grew quiet, "Butch's little switchblade could be scary when you don't have any weapons of your own." Charon grew visibly angry at the thought of some teenage moron holding a knife to Fiona. "He never actually did anything," she assured him. "He just… wanted to see what _he_ could get away with, I guess."

"_I_ never held a knife on a girl just to 'see if I could'" Charon spat out around the cigarette perched on his lip. Charon had done many horrific things in his numerous years, but they were usually against his will… and he _never_ did any of it for fun.

"Charon, it doesn't matter now. I'll never have to see him again." She paused and sighed. "I'll never see any of them again." Fiona only let the sadness linger for a moment before banishing it to the back of her mind to join an increasing collection of thoughts she wished to avoid. "Ok. So you were a stupid teenage boy who liked to push boundaries. Then what?"

"After that… I graduated High School and got bored. So I enlisted in the Army. People were really starting to get worked up over the Chinese and recruiters were everywhere. Posters and propaganda on every street corner. In every magazine." Charon grunted out a laugh. "Looking back, it's all so transparent but when you're there in the moment, it really worked wonders for getting people worked up." He looked at his employer, studying her asian features. "You would have had some trouble back in those days."

"Yeah? People were really that anti-Chinese?" she asked. Jokingly, she added "Would I have been a dirty communist infiltrator?"

"Maybe. People were definitely getting antsy. You would have probably had to prove to local authorities that you were not a spy." He rolled his eyes at the memories. His cigarette was burned down to the filter and he rose to return the ashtray to the nearby desk. Turning back to the bed, he noticed Fiona was removing her jacket. Her grey undershirt was dirty, but it clung to her in all the right places. Charon had to force his eyes away from her chest. Bras were not often worn in the wasteland and Fiona had adopted that practice.

She gave him an expectant look, and Charon fought to remember where he had left off in his tale. "Anyway…so yeah, I joined up. Went through boot camp… wasn't as hard as people said it was. Or maybe I was just better than them. After a few years of grunt infantry stuff, I was selected to try out for a special group. _That_ camp was hard. I really got my ass kicked, but I liked it. They challenged me. They taught us a little of everything. Hand-to-hand, light and heavy weapons, explosives, guerrilla warfare, you name it. We had to be good at it all. That was about ten years before the bombs dropped."

"Wow, so you were in the service for a while…" she noted.

"About twelve years," Charon calculated. "I joined at eighteen and I was… thirty-ish when the world ended."

Fiona bunched her face in a way that Charon had come to recognize. She was about to ask a question but was working on how phrase it. "So…" she began, "did people… I mean did they see it coming at all? Did they really think it was going to happen when it did? I know they were _prepared_ for it, with the vaults and everything. But still, most people didn't make it."

"No," Charon said, with a hint of sadness. "They sure didn't." He gave a long sigh. He hadn't mourned the loss of his family since the Institute had gotten hold of him and rearranged his head. He wasn't sure what to mourn, since he actually had no idea what had happened to any of them. But it was a safe bet that they were part of an ash heap somewhere. He felt a soft touch and snapped out of his thoughts to see Fiona leaning forward to put her hand on his.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up. I wasn't thinking."

Her sincerity was genuine and it made Charon feel warm. "Do not worry about it. I stopped mourning a very long time ago."

She smiled and looked into his clouded eyes. "Sometimes I speak before I think. You've probably noticed that by now." Her hand was still on his and she seemed to be stroking his hand absent-mindedly. Charon's first instinct was to pull away. He liked the contact but was embarrassed about his condition and didn't want her to be disgusted. However, she didn't seem uneasy at all. When she saw him staring at her hand on his, she quickly withdrew. "Sorry, that was rude of me," she apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"It is alright. I am not… offended," Charon said.

"I'm just naturally curious. You've probably noticed that by now too. Anyway, I just wanted to see what it felt like. Your skin I mean. Or lack of it… and there I go being offensive again…" she said as she let out a sigh.

Charon let out a small snort of laughter. "Of all the offensive things a smoothskin could say to ghoul, _that_ is not one of them." Staring down at his hand with its patches of missing skin he continued. "I am not accustomed to anyone being _curious_. Disgusted and afraid, yes. But little else."

"Well I'm not disgusted or afraid. That should be pretty obvious, Charon." She hesitated then asked "Can I touch your hand again?" She beamed when he nodded and removed his fingerless glove, then snatched his hand up like an exciting new toy. Fiona ran her fingers along his wrist, palm, knuckles… all with a kind of absorbed curiosity that Charon would have never expected. Her hand was so small in his. It was smooth and delicate and he resisted the urge to feel her skin in return.

After almost a minute, he dared to ask "So, what does it feel like to you?"

She smiled up at him. "Well, I've felt your skin before, but never for very long. When I really touch it closely, it's interesting. The remaining skin isn't smooth… but still kind of soft, like worn leather. And the exposed muscle isn't truly exposed, is it? It's got a little protective layer that formed over it. Makes sense. The body would naturally want to protect itself. Feels almost like…" she pursed her lips in concentration while she searched for the right word. "Like wax paper!"

Charon relaxed as she spoke, satisfied that she was not going to recoil in horror. Having prolonged skin contact like this was something he was not used to and it was having an unexpected effect. It wasn't sexual, not exactly. He thought about touching her hand in return, running his fingers along her jaw, feeling her hair… Mostly, he just felt relaxed. He almost felt human again.

After another minute, Fiona's curiosity was satisfied and she released his hand. "Thanks for humoring me," she said shyly. "I know I'm weird." Charon simply nodded in response. "Anyway, I guess we should go to bed now. I'm starting to feel pretty tired and you're looking pretty relaxed." She rose and settled down on her bed roll. Fiona heard shifting on the bed above her as Charon got up and retrieved his bed roll from the far corner, handing it to her so she could double up like he had done at the Jefferson.

Once again, he asked her "You are certain you do not wish to have the bed?"

"Charon, I am certain that I wish for_ you_ to have it. Now rest, mister!"

For a moment, he almost asked if she wanted to share. He would never dream of touching her or doing anything untoward. But the thought of asking her seemed more and more absurd with each passing moment and he abandoned it as he removed his own jacket and lay back on the soft mattress. Charon exhaled deeply as he let his large body sink into the sheets. It felt really fucking good to sleep in a bed. He felt his entire body unwind as he rolled onto his side and placed his hand, the one Fiona had held, underneath his head. For a fleeting moment before unconsciousness claimed him, he imagined the hand cradling his face was hers.


	18. Chapter 18: Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note**: Another dialogue-y chapter. More excitement coming soon though. Sorry if it seems to drag right now. :-/

* * *

Charon became aware as he felt a small shifting of weight on the mattress. Normally he would have snapped awake and readied himself for a fight. But tonight he simply smiled. He rolled over to face Fiona as she not so subtly crawled into bed. "Sorry," she whispered. "The floor sucked. Mind if we share?" Her face was flushed and beautiful as she crawled on all fours across the mattress. "If it's weird, I can go away. I just…"

Charon replied in a breathless hurry. "No," his voice begged. "It's not weird." He couldn't help but take in the sight of her body. She was clad only in her grey undershirt and a pair of black panties.

"It was really cold down there." Fiona slid her body next to him, pressing her body flush against his. "Just let me know if I make you… uncomfortable. Ok, big guy?"

Charon could feel her freezing skin through his clothes. He instinctively placed a large arm around her and she burrowed closer into his warm chest. They stayed like that for several minutes as he felt her shivering begin to subside. They both grew relaxed and sleepy again. Without thinking, Charon ran a rough hand down her back, sliding it underneath her shirt and ran it back up to caress between her shoulder blades. He felt her body tremble deliciously and she pressed herself closer to him. Her skin was smoother than he could have ever imagined. Like fine silk, he was almost afraid of snagging or tearing it with his weathered flesh. As his hand explored the expanse of her back, Charon felt her legs slowly move forward and intertwine with his own. He inhaled sharply as her hips rocked forward, ever so slightly. He dared to look down and the evidence of his arousal was not lost to her.

Fiona looked up at him, smiling nervously. Her breath was coming in short gasps as she bit her lower lip and stared up at him with bright eyes. She whispered his name and Charon's response was immediate and instinctive. He rolled on top of her and buried a hand in her hair. Locking eyes, his other hand traveled down her back and ventured lower, to the curve of her buttocks. She made no move to stop him, and he dared to give a small squeeze. The sharp intake of breath this elicited from her moist parted lips, broke him.

With a growl of arousal that he had not heard himself vocalize in centuries, Charon's hand dove beneath the thin cotton barrier as his other hand fisted in Fiona's hair, keeping her head exactly where he wanted it. She offered no resistance when his thick fingers began exploring and kneading the firm flesh of her rear, her breathing increasing in tempo and her legs trembling and spreading. Locking eyes with her, Charon took in every minute expression on her face as his large hand began to snake forward to her pink center, and brushed the entrance lightly with his long middle finger.

"Charon…" she whispered dreamily, her face flushed and beautiful. "Please don't hurt me."

He was confused for a moment before answering. "I'll be gentle. Just let me know what you like and if you want me to stop." As his finger brushed her entrance again, he felt the moisture accumulated there. He positioned the thick digit and looked to her face. And stopped suddenly. There was a small gash on her forehead, bright red blood oozing down and marring a swollen eye. He gasped and launched himself backwards on the bed trying to process what he was seeing.

With her one open eye, Fiona locked her gaze with his and repeated herself in a small, quaking voice. "Please, don't hurt me."

* * *

Charon woke with unexpressed alarm, eyes flying wide open but with no other outward signs of panic. Letting his heart rate slow down, he collected himself. _Just a dream. Calm down. Fiona's fine. _

Charon slowly rose from his resting position on the bed and stretched his back, listening to the familiar sound of popping vertebrae. Despite the nightmare, he felt very well rested. He wasn't sure how long he had been out, but he knew it was for longer than he was accustomed to. Leaning carefully over the edge of the bed, he looked down to where Fiona had slept the previous night. However, what he saw caused him to jump straight up and leap off the bed. Fiona was gone.

In moments, Charon was dressed and moving towards the door with his shotgun at the ready. His mind was racing with possibilities. In all likelihood she had simply woken up and gone somewhere. However, instinct and training drove him to fear the worst. It was always possible that Zimmer had not been the only Institute spy in the city. Or perhaps Fiona had made an enemy of someone else. No matter what the cause of her sudden disappearance, Charon was shocked that her movement had not woken him. Normally, he was conscious and alert at even the smallest noises.

Flinging the hatch to the hotel room open, Charon moved forward with determined purpose. However, he did not have to travel far to find his employer. Outside the hotel front desk he found her talking cheerfully with the strange woman from the Railroad they had met a few days ago, as well as Chief Harkness. Fiona's eyes were bright and clear, her smile wide and genuine. As she tossed back her head to laugh at something Harkness had said, Charon felt a tightening sensation in his chest and swallowed hard. She was easily one of the most attractive women in the wasteland.

At that moment, Fiona saw Charon and directed her bright smile towards him. "Good morning, sleepy head!" she called out to him.

Charon felt an unexpected sense of nervousness as he approached the chatting trio. "Good morning," he said softly, glancing at Harkness and his Railroad guardian. Charon noticed a lot of people moving around in the halls, bright and wide awake. "What time is it?" he asked curiously.

"It's almost 11am. You slept for over twelve hours, Charon." Fiona smiled warmly, stepping towards him and placing her hand on his lower back. "You must have been exhausted."

Harkness grinned. "Yeah, well he was the one who insisted on the fist-fight. I imagine that burned a few calories." Pausing, the android leaned in and gave Fiona a light hug. Charon felt his jaw clench and fought to keep from grinding his teeth. "Thanks again, Fi." Harkness leaned back. "And I'll see you in a few weeks, ok?" Fiona nodded cheerily and Harkness left with his Railroad "keeper."

Fiona turned back towards Charon and offered him a small cardboard container. "Breakfast! I didn't wanna wake you this morning so I snuck out and went to Gary's for some food. He was making brahmin steak and eggs! I'm not sure what kind of eggs they are… it's probably best I don't know. But it tasted good and I got some for you." Charon took the container and could smell the mouth-watering aroma emanating from within. The pair turned and went back to their room. "I asked Vera for a late checkout already, so there's no rush. You can take your time eating." Pausing Fiona added, "Hope I didn't worry you when you woke up and I was gone. I didn't intend to be out for more than half an hour, but then Harkness was patrolling the market and he stopped to chat, and then Victoria found me to thank me for helping Harkness and before I knew it it'd been almost two hours." She began to roll up their bedding and pack her bag.

Charon sat down with his breakfast at the table in corner. "When I woke up and you were gone I was… concerned," he admitted. In reality, he felt like shit. Fiona had been out in the open an unprotected for two hours while he'd been having a sex dream about her. Lenient employer or not, that was unacceptable. Charon mentally chastised himself.

"Shit, sorry. I should have left you a note," she apologized. "But you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you up." Fiona gave a smirk when he looked surprised at her description. "Yes, Charon. _You_ looked peaceful. Almost adorably so. And I just did not have the heart to wake you from whatever dream you were having." If Charon had still had enough blood flow to the skin remaining on his face, he would have been blushing. "Anyway, we're headed back to Megaton today. I'm really excited to show you around and introduce you to people. The nice ones at least."

As Charon ate his breakfast in silence, he wondered how the people of Megaton would react to his presence. He'd never been inside the settlement before, but had heard about it from passing travelers. Supposedly it was a pretty secure town that did regular trading with caravans and also had some degree of law and order. He wasn't sure how he would fit in, but at the same time he had stopped caring about others' opinions a very long time ago. Charon rose, having finished breakfast, only to notice that Fiona had packed his bag for him while he was lost in thought.

She smiled and gestured to the door. "Onward we go!" she jokingly exclaimed.

Despite the late departure, they made good time as they walked up the bank of the Potomac. Every few minutes, Charon would catch Fiona looking in his direction and smiling. He tried not to think of the dream he'd had about her, the good or the bad parts of it, but it was becoming difficult. He deliberately walked along side her so that he would not have a view of her from behind. However, seeing her smile at him had almost the same effect on his wandering mind. _This is not good_, he thought ruefully.

Crossing the river took them near Wilhelm's Wharf, the home of Grandma Sparkle. Approaching the elderly woman, the pair was surprised to see her greet them happily and wave them over. _Well, she probably didn't set us up to die, then,_ thought Fiona. Grandma Sparkle stood outside of her shack at the outdoor "cafe" she had created.

"Well howdy, you two!" she called excitedly. "Did your boat work out alright?" Fiona nodded but before she could speak Sparkle continued. "And did your friends catch up with ya?"

Fiona stood still, a curious look on her face as she tried to figure out how to best respond to that ridiculous question. "Oh shoot," Sparkle said, stamping her foot. "Your buddies said they were looking for you and had missed meeting you the other day. I told them where you were headed but I guess they missed you again. Shucks, that's just the luck in the wasteland I 'spose."

_How has this woman lived so long in the wastes and stayed this stupid?_ Fiona thought. She hated to yell at the old woman, but she had to do something. Suddenly an idea hit her.

"Yeah! Our friends must have missed us again," Fiona began, feigning disappointment. "But hey, if any of them come by here, you can tell them where to find me, ok?" Ignoring the insistent hand on her shoulder Fiona continued. "You tell them we're staying in a little town called Andale. It's west of the old Nuka-Cola factory. We'll be there for a quite a while if anybody with those black uniforms comes looking for us again, ok?"

"Well I sure will, dearie!" Sparkle smiled. "I'm glad you found somewhere safe to stay. It's dangerous out here you know."

Fiona waved goodbye to the old woman as they continued on their trek back towards Megaton. Once they were out of sight Charon asked "Why Andale?"

"Well, I think we both agree that there is something seriously wrong with those people, right?" Charon nodded. "If we send Talon guys out that way they'll not only be looking in the wrong place for me, but maybe the Andale weirdos will take care of them for me. Or they'll take care of the Andale weirdos. Either way, there are fewer bad guys in the wasteland and we're not dodging bullets. Win-win."

Charon had to admit, he liked her logic.

* * *

It was roughly an hour before sunset when the two travelers arrived outside the gates of Megaton. Fiona waved cheerily to Stockholm, the city's sniper who seemed to never leave the crow's nest perch above the front gates.

He waved back and called down to her. "Hey Fi! Who's that with ya? Are you ok?"

Fiona raised a hand, waving him off. "It's ok, Stockholm! He's with me!"

The gates of the city opened and the sound of the grinding machinery almost covered up the voice of the city's watchman shouting into the town. "Hey Lucas! The vault girl is back and she brought the biggest fuckin' ghoul I've ever seen! Looks like he could bench press Jericho!" Fiona rolled her eyes as the inner gates noisily swung open.

Charon took in the layout of the town as they entered. Just as rumor had said, there was an enormous, though now inactive, atomic bomb in the center of the town. The settlement was built around the crater it had produced. All of the structures surrounding it, homes and businesses it looked like, seemed to be built from sheets of scrap metal. The entire city had a very unsteady and ramshackle appearance. However, the look on Fiona's face as she glanced around told him she liked it here.

A dark-skinned man in a long brown duster and old-fashioned cowboy hat jogged up to meet them as they started descending the slope into town. "Welcome back, kid. Glad to see you survived the wastes… with some help, I see?" Simms stood, appraising Charon. Charon stood silently beside his employer, arms crossed.

"Sheriff Simms, I'd like you to meet Charon. I met him in Underworld while I was gone and he's been traveling with me ever since." Fiona wasn't sure how to explain the whole… contract situation… and didn't want people knowing the details about Charon's employment either. She could see the skepticism on Simms' face. "Simms," she said sincerely, "he's a good guy. You can trust him here. He's not trouble."

Simms turned and faced Charon directly. "Can you speak for yourself, Charon?" The ghoul nodded. "Good. Fiona, do you mind if I just have a few words with your friend alone please?"

Fiona did not look happy. "Sheriff, you can trust him. You don't have to-"

"It's just a little welcome speech. Not unlike the one I gave you when you came staggering in those gates for the first time, missy" he assured her.

"Fine." Fiona turned to Charon. "I'll be at the house. It's the one over there on the left," she said, pointing to one of the larger homes in town.

As Fiona walked up the ramp towards her home, Simms cleared his throat to regain Charon's attention. "You a mercenary?"

Charon decided to continue with the half-truth Fiona had told others before. The terms of his contract were none of this man's business. "Yeah, she met me in Underworld and hired me."

Simms paused to collect his thoughts. "Look, son. I don't begrudge mercenaries their trade. A long time ago, that's how I had to make my living. But this town and the safety of its citizens is my responsibility. And I just want you to know that I will be keeping an eye on you." Despite the harshness of his words, Simms' tone was neutral and professional. "Someone who is only loyal to their next payday isn't the type of person I am going to automatically trust. Now Fiona says _she_ trusts you, and that carries a little weight with me. But it doesn't give you a free pass either."

Simms paused, giving Charon a chance to respond. Charon was _not_ good at talking to people. Having to respond to acccusations from strangers made him feel… itchy. But, Charon did his best not to sound like an asshole. "I understand. But you do not have to worry. Payday or not, I'm not here to start trouble."

"Well that's good to hear, Charon." Simms, adjusted his hat. "Just how long has the kid hired you out for?"

"I'll be with her for… the foreseeable future." It was the only response Charon could reasonably give.

"That's not really an answer, son." The Sheriff was obviously a man who did not like vague responses.

"She hasn't hired me for a set time period. But I'll travel with her for as long as she'll have me," Charon finally replied.

The Sheriff nodded. "Alright. Then let me tell you something. That girl is a bit too kind for her own good, and if you haven't figured it out yet, she can be real naive. Still, she's done a lot for this town and she's got friends here. So if anyone hurts her, they'll have a dozen angry people gunning for 'em."

Charon knew the Sheriff was trying to scare him. However, the statement had the opposite effect. Knowing that Fiona had people who liked her enough to stand up to _him_ without hesitation bade well for her safety in this town. "That is good to know. I'm glad I'll have a dozen guns to back me up if I ever need help protecting her."

Simms seemed to like that answer. "Ok. Then welcome to Megaton… but watch your step." Simms tipped his hat to Charon, and walked slowly back into the center of town.

Charon watched the Sheriff for a few moments. He could respect someone who made it their business to know everything about their town and the people in it. In fact, Charon would have been pretty disappointed in the town from a security standpoint if he'd just waltzed in without setting off anyone's alarm bells. Of course if the Sheriff knew the actual terms of his employment he would not feel as threatened. Sighing, Charon turned and followed the path to the house he had seen Fiona walking towards.

He stood outside for a moment and took in the sight. Most houses in the wasteland were small shacks at best. However, this sheet metal abode was much larger than he had expected. It was hardly fancy, but compared to the rest of the town it was certainly one of the nicer homes. Nervously, he opened the front door and stepped inside.

"Intruder! Unauthorized entry! Defend yourself, scoundrel!"

A Mr. Handy robot floated down the stairs towards Charon with a buzz saw and flamethrower at the ready. However, before he could blast it away with his shotgun, Charon heard Fiona yelling from upstairs. "Wadsworth! No! Bad robot! That's Charon! Stand down!" The machine immediately ceased its aggressive posturing and lowered its weapons. Fiona threw herself down the stairs after it and ran to greet Charon. She had changed clothes and was now wearing a casual merc outfit. It was black vest with a red shirt underneath and leather pants rolled up past her ankles. The vest was low cut and the shirt was cut far too short, displaying most her flat stomach. He'd seen similar outfits on Tulip in Underworld, but he'd much rather see Fiona model this look any day of the week. He tried to avoid staring at the curve of her hips as she bounded down the stairs towards him.

"Welcome home!" she exclaimed warmly. "Sorry for Wadsworth. He uh… well he's programmed to defend the house from intruders. But he knows you now so it's alright." She turned to face the robot with a stern look.

"Apologies, sir." The machine rotated in the air with an almost embarrassed air. "Madam told me to be expecting a male visitor but did not provide a physical description. I was not expecting someone of your… stature."

Charon merely shrugged. He liked the fact that Fiona had some automated home security in place… especially since Charon had failed so utterly in his duties that morning. _Still can't believe I slept through her waking up and leaving the room_. _Well, at least the damn robot doesn't sleep. _Between the Sheriff and Wadsworth, Charon certainly welcomed the aid in keeping Fiona safe.

As he glanced around the large empty home, Charon couldn't help but feel a little impressed. For the wasteland, these were pretty nice accommodations. The two-story home was large and open. The main area had plenty of space, as well as a small kitchen in the back. Upstairs he could see two smaller rooms, bedrooms according to what Fiona had told him, as well as a loft that could provide more living space. This was much better than living in the corner of a dingy bar.

As he appraised his surroundings, Fiona went over to one of the lockers near the door and began putting things away. "I was thinking we'd head over to Moira's in a few minutes. I need to furnish this place and she owes me some caps after all that research. Also, I wanna see if she's got a mattress for you. Oh! And some casual clothes too!" As Fiona finished putting her things away she began to dig in the bottom of her pack. Charon was momentarily confused when she fished out several large stacks of rolled caps and handed them to him.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I told you I was going to pay you. Well… this is your weekly pay. I, uh… I'm not sure how much is considered a fair wage so if it's not enough…" she trailed off.

Charon counted the 8 stacks in his hand. Judging by the size of each, these were rolls of 50. "This is 400 caps," Charon stated. After a pause he continued. "This is a very generous wage for a common mercenary. It is… too much."

"You're no common mercenary, Charon. You're the best!" she said smiling.

Charon, though deeply grateful, felt compelled to disagree. He took a step forward and extended his hands back towards Fiona. "I am not a mercenary at all," he said softly, almost in a whisper. But when he tried to return the caps, Fiona very firmly wrapped his fingers around the stacks.

"These are yours, Charon. I want you to have them. Buy something you like at Moira's. Or save them. Or do whatever. But please, let me pay you." Still holding her hand around his much larger one, she added "No matter what your contract says, you're _not_ a slave. Not to me."

Charon nodded and was unnerved by the fact that for the first time in centuries, he didn't _feel_ much like a slave. Very slowly, he was beginning to feel like a man again. He had not had money of his own since before the war. Charon was still staring at the rolled stacks of caps in his hands when Fiona opened up a set of empty lockers on the other side of the room.

"These lockers over here can be yours. So feel free to dump whatever you don't wanna carry around with you in there." Pointing to the second floor she added, "The first room at the top of the stairs will be yours too. There's not much in it, but we'll change that today."

Charon unloaded a few odds and ends into the lockers at the back of the living room and placed his wages in the side of his pack. Fiona then slung her new plasma rifle over her back and waved for him to follow her outside. From the walkway outside her front door, there was a good view of the rest of the town. She took a moment to point out things of interest to him. There was a clinic at the bottom on the hill, the general store on a ramp above that, the local saloon was across the crater at the very top of the hill and the "Church of Atom" was directly in front of the bomb. Before they had a chance to finish their semi-aerial tour of Megaton, Charon heard a rough male voice call over from the shack next to Fiona's.

"Hey, dollface." An older man exited the ramshackle structure and walked cockily over to his employer. Judging from her change in body language, his incoming presence was not welcomed, and Charon stepped up to her side. "Good to see you made it back. I was worried sick somethin' might happen to ya' out there." The man took a long appraising look at Charon. "Though it seems you found a helpin' hand."

"Jericho," Fiona said without any effort to conceal her annoyance, "this is Charon. Don't fuck with him."

Smirking, the old raider said, "My offer's still open, sweetheart. I'm better lookin' and my protection rates are _real_ affordable." He took another long look at Charon, then added, "Unless you got a similar payment schedule worked out with big and ugly, there."

"Fuck off, Jericho. And it's none of your business." Turning to face Charon, Fiona said "Let's go. I wanna make it to Moira's before she closes."

Fiona shuddered noticeably and scowled as they walked away to the sound of Jericho's gruff laughter behind them. Once they were a safe distance from the house and walking up the ramp above the clinic, Fiona turned to Charon. "That asshole offered to escort me into DC before I headed out. But when I asked how much he was going to charge, his 'affordable rates' included… and I quote… 'three blow jobs a day and pussy every night.'" Charon felt his jaw tighten. "I declined his protection services." Fiona sighed audibly. "But he told me so many horror stories about what can happen out there. He just kept scaring me more and more about heading out alone. I was so scared of dying in the wastes… Charon, I _almost_ agreed to it." The thought of some old pervert like Jericho taking advantage of Fiona's fear made Charon physically ill. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to march across the crater and beat the man to death. Fiona's face turned bright red. "Sorry, I… I don't know why I just admitted that." She rubbed the back of her neck nervously. "Really glad I told him no, though." Fiona smiled up at Charon. "Meeting you is the best thing that's happened to me in the last two months."

Without thinking, Charon replied. "Meeting you is the best thing that's happened to me in the last two centuries." And with those words inescapably out in the open, it was Charon's turn to rub the back of his neck as well. Returning his nervous smile and still blushing herself, Fiona stopped at the door to Craterside Supply and motioned for him to follow her inside.

Inside the store, they were greeted by one of the most annoying voices Charon had ever heard. A red-haired woman in an old RobCo jumpsuit popped up from behind the counter. "Oh, hi! Good to see ya'! Don't mind the smoke," the woman said as she choked back a cough. "Just had a few experiments that ended… unexpectedly. But really, it's totally safe to breathe now." She paused for an awkward moment. "Probably."

Charon scanned the layout of the interior for weaknesses, areas of of cover, exits, etc. as he was in the habit of doing. He was met with the cold stare of a man leaning against the wall across from Moira's counter. The two men grunted and shared a nod that communicated "don't fuck with me, and I won't fuck with you."

Now the woman had jumped from around the counter and was excitedly downloading the research data Fiona had collected on her Pip Boy. "Oh my goodness! This is just fantastic! The library archives AND all the RobCo data AND documentation of Rivet City's history! You are the best little research assistant ever, Fiona!" The woman gave Fiona an overly dramatic hug. "You sure traveled all over for little ol' me, huh?" She paused, as if just noticing Charon. Gasping with glee, Moira extended her hand and exclaimed "And you made a friend too! He's sure is a big fella! Hi there! I'm Moira! Good to meetcha!" Charon nervously extended a hand and returned the woman's gesture.

"Moira, this is Charon. He'll be… traveling with me from now on. And since we're here, we have a few things to pick up too, so he can get settled."

Moira, thankfully, had everything they needed and extended a few very generous discounts to Fiona since she'd just helped her complete the last of the research for the survival guide. After selling some more scavenged items, Fiona arranged for the delivery of pre-war themed furniture, a workbench, a safe, and a mattress to her house later that evening. With the wages he had earned, Charon purchased a few pairs of clothes and a Sniper Rifle that was in desperate need of repair. However, he knew with a little work he could get the gun into serviceable condition.

After all of the transactions Fiona still had a few hundred caps left over and Charon had only spent a little over half of his pay. Charon smiled to himself and felt a small sense of pride at having his own money to spend as he saw fit. The pair returned home and Charon went to his room and changed into some of his new clothes. Once out of his leather armor, he saw just how badly in need of repair it truly was. He made a mental note to ask Fiona how much Moira might charge to repair a set of armor like his.

Fiona sat in the living room, rummaging through the remaining items in her pack. She'd need to go out scaving again to refresh her finances. However, she still had enough to live on for now, and had been very pleased when Charon used his money to buy a few things at Moira's. Her thoughts were interrupted by a growling stomach. She had not left any food in the fridge when she departed for DC, because she was not sure how long she would be gone. But now she regretted that decision as her stomach protested its empty state once again.

Her thoughts turned from her stomach when she heard Charon's heavy footsteps descending the stairs. She looked up to ask him if he wanted to get dinner together and her voice caught in her throat. He had changed into one of the sets of clothes he'd purchased from Moira… and he looked good. He had on a merc outfit made from a long black leather coat with the sleeves removed and white t-shirt underneath it. It was similar to the one Moriatry wore, only Charon filled it out much better. His broad shoulders and bare arms with fingerless gloves made the top look very different indeed. And the dark denim pants had surprisingly little wear and were snug in just the right places. Realizing she'd been staring, Fiona tried to cover.

"I like those clothes on you," she said. "They fit really well. I'm glad Moira had some that were big enough." Charon nodded in agreement, feeling almost flattered. After pausing for a moment, she continued. "So, uh, there's no food in the house right now. I was thinking about going over to Moriarty's for a drink and some dinner. You're free to do whatever you want. You don't have to follow me around while we're here in town if you don't want to. But, I mean, that is, if you wanted to come with me and have dinner together, that'd be really great." _And awkwardly stated. Smooth delivery, Fi,_ she thought. _And Jesus, didn't I just promise myself yesterday that I was not going to flirt? _

Charon nodded. In another time and place, it almost would have sounded like she was nervously asking him out. "Yes, that sounds good." He paused. "Isn't Moriarty the bastard that reminds you of Ahzrukhal?"

"Yeah. I really wish I could get away with killing him. But, murder is frowned upon around here. Honestly, the only reason I go there instead of the Brass Lantern is so I can visit Gob," she admitted. As the two left the house, Fiona called back inside. "Wadsworth! I'm expecting a furniture delivery from Moira. If they come while we're away help them unload stuff. And don't attack them."

"Very good, madame," he heard the robot reply from upstairs.

They walked leisurely over to the saloon, Fiona pointing out other buildings and homes to him as they went. As they strolled, Charon felt something akin to peace. Living in a house in a safe town, wearing new clothes, walking at dusk with an attractive woman at his side… Strange stares from town residents notwithstanding, for a moment he could almost fool himself into believing he had a very different life.


	19. Chapter 19: Backsliding

The saloon was exactly as she remembered it: dim and depressing. The air inside was minutely fresher than that of the Ninth Circle, but that was only because the doors actually opened to the outside air. Stale cigarettes and the sickly smell of ammonia and liquor greeted Fiona as she walked inside. There were only two other patrons, two men from the common house who never really introduced themselves to her, sitting in the side room. Gob, the poor ghoul who had been Moriarty's "indentured servant" for fifteen years, was mopping the floor near the back room when she and Charon sat down on the rickety stools lining the bar. Upon hearing the tell tale creek of old metal that indicated a customer sitting down, Gob turned to issue his standard lackluster greeting. However, he stopped short when he saw his customers.

Gob's eyes first fell to Fiona and he damn near smiled. Moriarty had been a real bastard lately and a friendly face was exactly what he needed right now. However, in the same glance he also noticed the familiar, but definitely unfriendly face, seated next to her. He had not been to Underworld in a decade and a half, and even then he rarely ever set foot in the Ninth Circle. But Gob remembered Charon. The giant had earned quite a reputation as Ahzrukhal's personal "problem solver" over the years.

Despite his obvious hesitation, Fiona smiled and greeted Gob as she normally did. "Hey, Gob!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her stool. "I made it back alive! And they said it couldn't be done!" Fiona added with a flair of drama and sarcasm. Catching Charon's eye she noticed his questioning look and added "Well, _alone_ it probably couldn't have been done… you feel better now, smartass?" she huffed as she feigned indignation towards her companion and he flashed her a friendly smirk in return. "I'll have a beer and… iguana-on-a-stick. Charon?" He grunted and nodded, his version of "me too" when around new people Fiona was noticing. "Charon will have the same."

Still standing mutely, Gob's eyes tracked from Fiona to Charon and back again. _What the fuck is going on?_ Finally finding his words after a moment of awkward silence, Gob spoke. "Hey, Fiona. It's good to see you again. A bunch of us were gettin' worried about you." He and Billy Creel had actually been very worried until a few days ago, when the Grayditch kid Billy was checking in on for Fiona received word his aunt had sent for him. With that news, they at least knew that she was alive and in Rivet City. Popping the caps off their beers and grabbing two skewers of meat he added, "And uh, you made it to Underworld?" Gob stared nervously at Charon.

"Yep! And Carol says hi, too! Gob, she is just the sweetest woman _ever_! Actually, with a few exceptions, most people in Underworld were pretty nice."

"Good, I'm glad people treated you decent. " Gob paused. "Sometimes they're not so nice to smoothskins, but I guess it depends on the person too. You seem to win people over pretty easy though so…" Gob really wanted to ask Fiona how Carol reacted to hearing about his situation. It was as if Fiona could read his mind.

"Well, saying I knew you was all it took to get me on Carol's good side. Um, by the way, I kinda glossed over some of the finer points of your… life story. I just told her you worked at a bar and left it at that."

Gob sighed heavily with relief. "Thanks, Fi. I really appreciate it. I… I don't want anyone back there to know how stupid I was to get myself into this… situation and-"

Fiona cut him off abruptly. "You won't be in this situation forever, Gob. Not if I can help it."

Gob sighed. "I appreciate it but… he won't sell me. Least of all to anyone with good intentions. And he charges me more in rent than he 'pays' me to work here, so my debt just goes up, never down."

"I know," Fiona said quietly. "Confessor Cromwell told me about when Moriarty refused to take his caps." She tapped her finger thoughtfully on the bar.

"And if anything 'happens' to that bastard, you know _I'll_ be the one blamed." Gob knew half the people in the town would jump at the chance to see him kicked out… or worse.

"I know…" Fiona tore off bits of her dinner and nibbled them in between large gulps of beer. As soon as she had finished the last drop, Gob already had another fresh one in her hand. The trio shared a comfortable silence as Gob cleaned the bar and Charon and Fiona ate and drank.

Gob glanced nervously over to Charon who was quietly sipping his beer and taking occasional bites of meat. He knew Charon was essentially a slave as well, though Ahzrukhal always had a variety of colorful euphemisms on hand to replace the unsavory stigma the word "slave" tended to produce. He'd heard all about Charon's weird contract from other residents. He didn't understand all of the details, but knew the gist of it was that Charon was compelled to obey his contract holder and was essentially doomed to be a slave forever. He would have felt bad for the man if he wasn't also terrified of him. Gob desperately wanted to find a tactful way of asking just how the hell Fiona got Ahzrukhal to part with his man-servant. Just as Gob was working up the nerve to ask, the large ghoul spoke for the first time, his gruff voice cutting the silence. "Just ask already."

Gob startled and drew his hand back from the counter as if a snake had snapped at him. Grinning, and forcing back a small laugh, Fiona turned to her companion. The large ghoul popped another chunk of iguana meat in his mouth. Fiona smirked at him and turned to Gob. "I needed help getting through DC alive, and when I got to Underworld I heard about Charon. So I bought his contract from Ahzrukhal," she said shrugging. Then she gave a sly look to Charon.

"Heh, and now that slimy bastard is a puddle on the floor." Charon looked very satisfied saying that part. Fiona tipped her beer towards him and they clinked their bottles together in a mock toast. Gob would have never imagined seeing Charon in Megaton… and especially not looking so content.

"So uh," Gob nervously addressed Charon, "you're just gonna be protecting Fiona when she's out adventuring or… I mean, are you gonna live in Megaton now?" Gob replaced Charon's now empty beer with a fresh one.

Charon nodded in thanks. "She is setting up a room for me in her house. So, yes I will be living here… for now."

Fiona turned. "Not just 'for now.' For… a long time." Gob couldn't hear her next words clearly, as they were spoken softly in Charon's direction but it sounded like she said "I told you this wasn't a temporary thing…" The relaxed look on the large ghoul's face almost resembled a smile.

Gob wasn't sure why he was surprised. Fiona never struck him as the type of person to buy a slave, but he also knew that she wouldn't treat anyone poorly. "Well then, welcome to town," Gob said with a little less fear now. Charon seemed less threatening when Fiona was with him. "It'll be good having another ghoul around. A lot of people here are bigots but there's a few real nice ones too and-"

Gob was cut off when Charon snorted. "Pfft, I don't give a fuck what people think about me." Gob couldn't see behind other side of the bar but it looked like Fiona kicked Charon in the shin.

"Be nice… to Gob and… people in general," she said, though her tone carried only token correction at best.

With a low laugh he leaned in towards her just slightly and whispered "I told you already that violence on your behalf invalidates the contract. You keep beating me like that and I'll turn on you." Gob almost felt afraid that there was about to be a very dire change in mood but Fiona just giggled and Charon even grinned. It was then that he noticed the two had moved closer to each other by small degrees over the course of the meal and were angling their bodies towards each other instead of sitting facing forward. Gob didn't need fifteen years of bar tending experience to pick up on those signals. _Lucky bastard,_ Gob thought. _Even as ghouls it's still the assholes that get the girls. How fucked up is that? _

"Anyway, it's good to have you here. Both of you." Gob added "Fi, I sure missed having someone to talk to the last week or so. I mean, other than Nova." Gob unconsciously glanced up the stairs.

"Where _is_ Nova, by the way?" Fiona asked. The saucy woman was usually hanging around the bar, eyeing potential "room renters" or chatting with Gob.

"She uh, Moriarty asked her to pay her rent early this week. So…" he motioned with his chin to the bedroom where Nova tried futility to work off her own debt to the Irish bastard. "Usually doesn't take this long though."

Fiona turned bright red at the thought. She knew how Moriarty "charged" Nova for every scrap of food and breath of air the poor woman consumed under his roof. However, Fiona was still very new to the concept of things like Nova's slavery/prostitution… slavitution? Prostlery? Nova may claim that Gob had the worse situation _overall_, but at least he didn't have to see the old bastard naked as a part of his servitude.

"Well, maybe the old prick will pass out afterwards and I'll get to chat with Nova without having to see his ugly mug," Fiona spat. Unfortunately, her jab did not go unheard as the door to the upstairs "guest room" swung open and Colin Moriarty stepped out with a pompous swagger and a hand still stuffing his shirt back into his pants.

"Well if it isn't our resident vault rat!" he said, laughing as he descended the stairs, staring daggers at Fiona. Standing directly behind her seat at the bar and intentionally invading her personal space, he whispered loudly in her ear. "And you'll be glad to know that this _prick_ still has plenty of energy left if you're feelin' a tad jealous of Nova." As the lecherous bar owner's hand ventured towards Fiona's inner thigh, his thumb was caught and twisted backwards roughly by a large ghoulish hand. However, Moriarty did not emit the scream Charon had been hoping to hear. He clenched his jaw and bit back the sound in his throat like a pro. Moriarty was a man who, above all else, knew how to respond to a challenge. Once Charon felt the threat had passed, he released the older man's hand without a word, letting the threat in his face do all the talking.

Making no attempt to hide the fact that he was rubbing his sore, and possibly broken, thumb Moriarty walked around the bar and addressed his new customer, taking a long swig of whiskey from his personal stash. With a sly grin he announced "Welcome to Moriarty's Saloon! You must be new. I'd never forget such a handsome face, ya' see." Charon was surprised Moriarty didn't slip in a puddle with all the sarcasm dripping from his voice. When Charon merely grunted in response, the proprietor leaned in and spoke softly to the ghoul. "If you're lookin' to get laid tonight and your plan includes buying drinks for this one," he said, pointing his good thumb at Fiona, "you'd best save your caps, boyo. She's a ghoul lover for sure, the way she makes eyes at my bartender… but she's the town _tease_."

Charon was ready to grab the man by the throat when he felt a hand squeezing his knee underneath the bar. A glance over to Fiona told him, _Don't do it._ Charon restrained himself and let the anger pass. With the threat of a severe beating temporarily relieved, Moriarty continued his jabs.

"Oh don't misunderstand. There is _one_ way to get what you want from a tease like her. But the Sheriff is such an old-fashioned stick in the mud… as soon as she goes cryin' to him you'd be thrown out of town." Fiona still held Charon's knee firmly in her grip, giving him the same look that begged him not to be baited into a fight. Moriarty just grinned. Leaning over and whispering so that only Fiona, Charon and possibly Gob could hear his next words, he uttered, "Usually you can buy a girl's silence… or scare her into keeping her trap shut. But not that one," he said as his eyes bore into Fiona, licking his lips. "She's got a real mouth on her." Turning back to Charon he kept going. "If you don't have a secure place to keep her locked up and quiet, it's best to just go ahead and kill her after you've had your fill. I'll even help you dump her body if you let me have a quick fu-"

Despite the reassuring hand on his knee Charon lost control. He jumped up from his stool, knocking it backwards, and grabbed Moriarty by the throat. But before he had a chance to squeeze the life out of him Fiona screamed.

"Charon, stop!"

In an instant he froze, slowly releasing his iron grip on the bar owner. He was rewarded with a choked laugh from the pompous asshole, having finally gotten a reaction from the ghoul. Fiona leaned in close to Charon, her hand wrapped around his bare arm. "Don't give him what he wants, Charon. Please." The two other patrons had risen from their chairs in the back corner to see what the commotion was about. Charon was compelled to obey orders, and did not want to cause any trouble for Fiona in a town that accepted her. But personally, he wanted nothing more than to slowly and painfully murder the arrogant Irishman. Moriarty definitely reminded him of Ahzrukhal.

The tension in the air was thick and Charon stared murderously into the eyes of the smirking bar owner while Fiona slowly ran her hand up and down the length of his arm to try and calm him. Gob stood frozen, unsure what to do, and disappointed that Charon had not killed Moriarty in that instant. Finally, Moriarty spoke, his voice throaty and hoarse from the momentary strangulation.

"Relax, boyo. I was only jokin'. Had to see where your buttons are." Turning to Fiona he added, "And now I know." Moriarty wore a triumphant look as he took his private bottle of whiskey and retreated to the back room, shutting the tin door behind him.

Fiona was still keyed up and scared when she motioned for Gob to come closer. Still holding Charon's arm, she whispered quietly to him "Gob, under no circumstances is Moriarty to know about Charon's contract. _Ever._ Do you understand me?" Gob had never seen Fiona look so serious.

"Yeah, I understand." Gob nervously twisted the dirty dish rag he'd been using to wipe the counters in his hands. "Trust me, there's no way I'd ever want him getting his hands on it." Taking a moment to think about what Moriarty might do with someone like Charon following him whims, Gob shuddered. "I'd rather die than let Moriarty get that kind of power."

"Good… but hopefully it doesn't come to that." Fiona sighed. "Just to be on the safe side, make sure you don't mention it to anyone. Not even Nova. I trust her, but… " Fiona trailed off. Gob nodded nervously. He knew what she meant. Nova was a good person at heart, but she'd been a through a lot in her life. She had no personal interest in keeping Charon's contract away from Moriarty. And even if she did, that man was a master manipulator. Turning to Charon, Fiona asked "What'd you tell Simms when he gave you his little welcome speech?"

"I told him I was a mercenary," Charon responded softly, still staring at the closed door to the back room, wanting to burst through it and finish what he'd started.

"Ok. So, no one else in town has any reason to think otherwise. Gob," she said, still in a whisper, "make sure you stick to that story. You knew Charon from Underworld, where he was a merc. He still is, he's just working for me now." Finally dropping her hand from Charon's arm she sighed, "Why hasn't Nova come downstairs yet?" Moriarty's casual talk about rape and murder got under her skin in ways she didn't want to admit, and she felt a moment of panic when she realized Nova was still not showing herself.

"She might be sleeping… or… well, she's probably huffing Jet." Gob's face spoke volumes about how helpless he felt. "She likes to kinda… zone out… after she pays that bastard his rent."

"I don't blame her," Fiona said, shaking her head. "Well, anyway… we should probably go before assface thinks of some other way to piss off Charon." Her hand returned briefly to Charon's arm, taking his focus off of the back door he'd been eyeing like a hawk their entire conversation. "And uh… can I get a bottle of liquor too?"

Gob nodded. "Sure thing. I'd recommend the Vodka. It's too clear for him to get away with pissing in it."

Fiona had heard those rumors and had been sticking with bottled beer at saloon for that very reason. "Sounds good." As Gob handed her the bottle she began digging around in her pockets for the caps. "Sorry we have to go so soon. I'll try to come back tomorrow though," she said softly. As Fiona pulled the roll of caps from her pocket she saw that Charon had been digging in his own jacket for the same thing and beat her to it. Placing a roll on the counter, she started to insist on paying for them but Charon simply shook his head.

Looking to Fiona he said "You told me to spend my paychecks however I wanted… so make it two bottles, Gob." The bartender reached for a second bottle and looked confused.

"Paychecks? But I thought… with the…" he lowered his voice to a whisper "with the contract you didn't get paid… Ahzrukhal always talked like you were a… ya know… "

Fiona answered his question. "I didn't buy his contract to take advantage of it, Gob," she said, almost insulted. "I don't care what a piece of paper says… he's no one's property. Not even mine."

Charon fought back a smile. This whole week had been surreal and it was only getting weirder. Where he was six days ago and where he was now could not have been any more different. It felt amazing… and he was terrified of getting used to it.

* * *

When they arrived back at the house, Moira had worked some decorating magic. The living room was now furnished like a pre-war home. There was a sofa, two chairs, coffee table and large area rug in the center of the room, The furniture was in excellent condition. She had also provided some packaged foods and lined the bookshelf with them. The workbench was in the corner and stocked with tools. Fiona's sour mood improved as she took a look around. Even the kitchen had new items on the shelves.

"Welcome home, madame." Wadsworth floated down the stairs. "Ms. Moira and her… male assistant… left a few minutes ago. I've just completed assembling the bed frame for master Charon. I do hope everything is to your liking."

"It looks great!" Fiona put one of the bottles of vodka in the fridge and placed the other one on the coffee table. Heading to the stairs, she beckoned for Charon. "Let's go see what else is upstairs. There was a now a small table and chair in the corner or the loft outside Fiona's bedroom. There were also two pre-war armchairs across from the bedrooms. "I think I'll get a jukebox next," she thought aloud. "It can go in that corner over there," she pointed to the landing just above the stairs.

Charon poked his head into his room and grinned. His bed was sitting against the wall just inside the door. He sighed and sat down. It wasn't fancy, but it was comfortable. A thin blanket was laid out along the foot of the bed along with a small pillow. It wasn't much… but it was his. Charon's room also boasted a tiny round table and metal chair as well as a metal shelf along the wall. He placed his armor and a second set of spare clothes, a simple merc grunt outfit, on the shelves. It looked pretty bare, but with time he would accumulate more belongings. As he sat on his new bed, Fiona came to the door.

"Is the bed ok?"

Charon smiled and nodded. "It is."

"Well, it looks like everything got delivered. Even the safe! It's in my room, so I'm gonna store your contract in there, along with other stuff like the deed to the house. He got up and followed her into her room. Looking inside he saw her bed was against the back wall. She also had a filing cabinet next to it and a large desk in the corner. The safe had been placed underneath the desk and Fiona moved her chair to sit on the floor in front of it. Opening her desk drawer, she removed the deed to the property and placed it neatly inside the lockbox. She then reached into her chest pocket and pulled out his contract. Placing it inside, she closed the safe. "Hmmm… what should the combination be?"

Charon shrugged his shoulders. He was surprised she was asking him at all. She sat thinking for a moment, then glanced at her Pip Boy calendar. She seemed to be counting backwards. "Got it!" She keyed in a combination and then triggered a second lock with a small key. "There. It's got a double lock so it'll need both a physical key and the numerical combination to open." Charon nodded with approval. He felt good knowing that Fiona took the security of his contract seriously, especially with someone like Moriarty in town. "Ok, so I made the combination 0-9-2-7-7-7. And… I don't wanna keep the key on me… Charon, from a security perspective, where would a good hiding place be?"

Charon stood, dumbfounded. He was not expecting her to give him the combination to the safe. Granted, he would not be able to do anything with his own contract even if he wanted to. But he was not accustomed to having an employer freely share important information with him either. Thinking about her question for a moment, he answered. "Somewhere inside the house, but not in the same room as the safe. I recommend hiding it inside the ceiling, above a detachable light fixture. It is out of the way enough to avoid a casual search but easily retrieved in case of emergency."

Fiona smiled widely. "That is a really good idea!" She rose and walked back downstairs, examining the ceiling's light fixtures. Most of them were lightbulbs, hanging down on wires from holes in the ceiling. Finally, Fiona decided on a spot. Taking off her boots and standing on the new sofa, she reached to to an opening just underneath the loft floor. Moving the wires aside, she slid the key into the tiny hole there and back a few inches. "Perfect," she exclaimed. Slapping her hands together in satisfaction, she flopped down on the sofa and reached for the bottle of room temperature vodka on the table. Charon moved to sit beside her, still feeling a bit nervous about being this casual with an employer. With the exception of Moriarty's big mouth, the entire evening had been like a good dream. Therefore, he was waiting for something terrible to happen and wake him up.

Fiona opened the bottle and took a small sip. Scrunching her face as the liquid burned its way down her throat, she spoke. "I'm wanna kill Moriarty so much right now."

"You should have let me kill him earlier." Charon was absolutely serious. He knew the man was baiting him into a fight, but it was fight he would have easily won.

"Trust me, it was tempting. But… if you had killed him the town would have lynched you. I don't want you to get hurt. That bastard wasn't worth it." Fiona passed him the bottle, and Charon was reminded of a few nights ago in the RobCo offices.

He took a long swig of vodka and passed it back. "They could _try_ to lynch me. I'd kill anyone who got close enough…"

"And I don't want that either! Again, he's not worth it," she said insistently.

"Gob needs to do it," Charon said.

"What?" Fiona knew Gob would like to kill his "master", but she also knew… he just didn't have it in him.

Charon began drinking in earnest and Fiona's eyes widened. When he had consumed several ounces of liquor Charon spoke again. "Gob should do it. It's not your job to free him. If he really wanted out of there he would find a way to get out. You should not risk your reputation or your home for him when he's capable of freeing himself."

Fiona sat silent for a few moments. Speaking softly and trying not to sound too angry, she asked "Do you have any idea how hypocritical that sounds?"

Charon turned to her, his voice very serious. "No, it is not hypocritical. Our situations are very different. Gob has free will. He is not wearing a slave collar. There is _nothing_ keeping him under that monster's thumb except his own cowardice." Charon knew his opinion wasn't going to be taken very well by Fiona. But between the alcohol and his feeling of impotence from being unable to counter Moriarty's threats earlier, he was in no mood to hear excuses made for a slave who had a much better shot at taking his freedom than he would ever have.

Fiona simply sat staring at Charon, mouth agape. Obviously, some nerve had been struck. Her initial impulse to yell at him for being insensitive was overwhelmed by the need to understand where Charon was coming from. Inching closer to him on the sofa, she asked "Charon… are you ok? This rant seems a little personal."

When he didn't answer, she offered him the bottle again, which Charon accepted and knocked back like a pro. "I apologize. I spoke out of place. He is your friend."

Sighing heavily, Fiona took the bottle and took a sip herself. "It's ok. You don't have to apologize for being honest. I just… tell me what you mean. Please?"

"I meant what I said. I am not blaming him for getting into his situation. But I do think he's an idiot for not being able to get out of it by now."

"Charon," Fiona began, "Gob is stuck is a bad situation and-"

"No," Charon uncharacteristically interrupted. He paused to collect his increasingly blurry thoughts. "_He_ is not stuck. I was stuck. I know exactly how he feels… being a slave for a man like that. What I _cannot_ relate to is having his type of freedom. The instant I had my chance to rid the world of Ahzrukhal, I _did._ Gob has that chance every moment of every day. How…" Charon's hand rose to his temple as if he were getting a headache. Raising his face he half-shouted to the wall. "How the fuck can someone with even one ounce of free will just sit there and take that?!"

Fiona was struck by the sudden outburst of emotion and involuntarily jumped backwards. Embarrassed, Charon immediately quieted himself and resumed his typical rigid demeanor. "Charon… please talk to me." She closed the distance again, sitting only inches from him and resting her hand on his warm bicep. Just having Fiona next to him was intoxicating. Charon could feel her body heat. He could smell her hair. And he was more than a little tipsy. Nothing good would come from discussing his feelings on this or any matter. Charon looked down at her face, staring up expectantly at him.

"Charon, obviously you need to talk about some things. It's ok. I'm not going to be angry at you or judge you. I just… I want to know what's going on. You can trust me."

Her eyes were so sincere. And Charon did trust her. And in that moment… he fully realized what a terrible mistake it was to feel this content with his life. He had not deserved the cruel treatment he'd received under Ahzrukhal. However, after everything he had done at that man's behest, he no longer deserved the basics of human kindness either.

"I do trust you. However… may I make a request?"

"Of course." Fiona put a comforting hand on his shoulder, anticipating an emotional confession.

"I am confused about my place. I believe I require stricter boundaries and rules than you are currently providing. I enjoy feeling… human… again. I appreciate your kindness. However, I believe that in the long-term it is better if I do not grow accustomed to such treatment." Charon was no longer looking at her face, but rather staring blankly across the room.

Dumbfounded, it took Fiona a moment to respond. "But… Charon even if I agreed with you, and I don't, I don't have it in me to treat you like a slave. And why can't you 'grow accustomed' to being treated like a person?!" She was trying not to sound insulted or upset, as she knew it was not Charon's intention. But Fiona was genuinely confused.

Charon sighed slowly. Finally, he regained eye contact with her. "If I do my job well, then you will live a long and healthy life. However, unless I turn feral, I will outlive you. My contract will have to be taken over by someone else eventually. And it is doubtful that my next employer will demonstrate your level of compassion. It would be more humane for me not to get used to something that will eventually be taken away." Fiona sat next to the person who she thought was becoming her best friend, and fought back tears. When she did not respond, he added, "With your permission, I would like to rest for the night."

Fiona was confused by Charon's sudden outburst and subsequent shut down of emotions. But, she didn't want to force him to share. She wanted him to trust her. "You don't need my permission, Charon. You know that…" she said flatly.

He nodded. "Very well. Good night." He rose and made his way upstairs, closing the door to his room behind him.

In a daze, Fiona rose and deposited the half-empty bottle into the refrigerator. After staring at the wall for a moment and processing everything Charon had said, she sat back down on the sofa and brought up the files on her Pip Boy she'd downloaded from the Arlington Library. She'd saved and bookmarked every psychological journal and article she could find that discussed advanced behavioral conditioning or anything related to the subject. Now that she was home… she had some research to do.

With the aid of Nuka-Cola's sugar and caffeine content, Fiona read pre-war psychological research on her Pip Boy until 3am. However, what she read only gave her more questions than answers. Based on what she knew, there was absolutely no way in hell Charon should still be brainwashed or feeling any sort of restriction of free will after so many years. The mind is simply too plastic to retain forced conditioning for such a long period of time without receiving any reinforcement. Fiona took a long swig from her second cola of the night. There was just too much she did not know about Charon's training at the Institute. How many years had it taken? Had there been drug therapy involved? Were there others trained along with him to reinforce the conditioning?

All she knew from him so far was that it had begun not long after the bombs fell and he had been cut loose from the Institute almost 190 years ago. She also knew that much of what Ahzrukhal had told her about Charon's history was misinformation and lies. Apparently each time an employer transferred Charon's contract, the story of his history and training got changed slightly. Sometimes a lie was told on purpose for use as a selling point. Other times it was based on a genuine misunderstanding of what the current employer had been told by the last one. But eventually, the story Ahzrukhal had been given about Charon's history barely resembled the truth and he had never cared to ask Charon about its accuracy anyway.

Fiona hated to pry answers from Charon, but if she was going to understand anything about his outburst, she would need to have more information. He displayed far too much intelligence to truly lack "free will." It simply did not make sense. He no longer _believed_ in anything he was originally taught. Therefore, he was not "brainwashed." And yet he talked about lacking free will? Clearly _something_ did inhibit his behavior based on how quickly he killed Ahzrukhal. But… a piece of paper? Even Charon seemed to realize it sounded ridiculous.

Fiona rubbed her temples. It was late and she was running on cola fumes. All this thinking and getting no where was exhausting. She rose and headed upstairs, stopping briefly outside Charon's room. After a moment of debate, she cracked open his door. He was asleep on his new bed, facing the wall and curled onto his side. He had wrapped a thin blanket around himself like a protective cocoon. For a moment Fiona wanted nothing more than to lie down next to him and provide whatever comfort he seemed to be seeking from that blanket. Charon had provided her so much comfort, she wanted to return the favor and help with whatever was haunting him. However, she knew that crawling into bed with him to provide any sort of comfort would only lead her mind, and his, to places best not ventured.

Charon had never flirted or made any sort of move, and she knew he likely never would. But Fiona also knew that despite his contract, he was a man. It would be cruel to tease him._ But it isn't teasing if I follow through…_ Fiona stopped herself from thinking any further. Even though she had been pushing the events of a few days ago to the back of her mind, Fiona knew that she was still upset and dealing with her own trauma. Doing… whatever it was she was thinking of doing… would only ruin whatever friendship was forming between them. And if Charon really did lack the free will to disobey his employers wishes, she'd be taking advantage of him.

As her conscious mind filled with every good reason imaginable _not_ to entertain any non-platonic ideas, her subconscious took advantage of the distraction and directed her feet to move further into the room. He really did look peaceful when he slept. There was so much she wanted to say to him right now. She understood why he was frustrated by Gob's situation. She knew that he was afraid of getting used to good treatment. Perhaps she had pushed him too fast. Before she could do anything regrettable, Fiona backed away slowly and left Charon's room, closing the door behind her. Sighing heavily, she sat down at her desk and thought about what to do. She'd need to have a talk with him in the morning. But first…

Fiona opened her desk and pulled out a large sheet of paper in decent condition. With a pen she had scavenged from the RobCo offices she began to write thoughtfully, pausing every few minutes to plan out exactly what she wanted the document to say. Every phrase needed to be precise and clear, with no room for misinterpretation. Each new paragraph presented a new challenge and a new decision. Finally, close to 5am, Fiona completed her work. She went downstairs and retrieved the key from the ceiling hiding spot and back upstairs, entered the combination for the safe. On top of the stack of documents already in place, she added one more. Before re-locking the safe, Fiona took a final look at the document she'd thoughtfully written. _I need to be prepared for the unexpected,_ she thought. _I'm responsible for a life and I need to start acting like it._ As she slowly closed the safe, the shadow over the door darkened the words on the heading of the paper.

_**Last Will and Testament of Fiona T. Lin**_


	20. Chapter 20: Safe Words

Fiona woke the next morning and the previous night's events seemed like a bad dream. It was certainly not how she had wanted Charon's first night in Megaton to unfold. She was still very confused about his outburst. But after having the night to think, and sleep on it, Fiona concluded that perhaps she'd not been very attentive to Charon's needs. Even though he had seemed happy being treated like an equal, apparently it had reached a tipping point and become overwhelming for him. She needed to decide which course of action to take. Should she go back to the sort of treatment he was used to… minus the abuse? Or would that just do more psychological damage? Last night might have just been a cathartic expression and he could feel differently today. Sometimes when people go through a big life change they need to vent their emotions, good and bad.

Glancing at the safe, she sighed and rose from bed, stretching leisurely. When Charon had mentioned her eventual death, Fiona had been struck by the realization that she had to start thinking about the future. She needed to prepare for what would happen to him _if_ something unexpected happened to her. It was difficult to imagine Charon's perspective. He'd been alive for almost 230 years. He had seen people grow up, grow old and die while he stayed ageless. Rotting, but ageless. She understood that he wasn't just in the habit of thinking about tomorrow's plans, but next year's, next decade's… next century's. And she surely would not be around for the latter.

Rising, she noticed how bright the sky was through the pockmarked holes in her scrap metal abode. Her Pip Boy confirmed her suspicions. She had slept until noon. _Yeah well I didn't go to bed until 5am, so I'm not gonna beat myself up over it._ She assumed Charon would be up and about and as she descended the stairs she saw him busy at the workbench tinkering with the sniper rifle he had purchased yesterday. He was still in his clothes from last night, minus the jacket. In only the light teeshirt and dark denim, it was easy to see just how massive and muscular his form really was. When Charon heard her movement he quickly stopped his work and turned around. He looked nervous. Fiona smiled warmly to reassure him.

"Sorry I slept in. I was up pretty late reading and researching." Fiona kept talking as she went to the kitchen and took a Nuka-Cola from the fridge. "Have you been up very long?"

"A few hours," he said flatly, still standing by the workbench and maintaining a stiff posture. The fizzy caffeinated beverage gave Fiona the morning buzz she needed. Flopping down in one of the armchairs in the living room, she drank leisurely and tried to figure out what to say.

"So, uh… what've you been up to this morning?" _Come on Charon, please relax._

"I began working on the rifle I purchased yesterday. I believe I can repair it easily enough. Also, Sheriff Simms stopped by this morning," Charon spoke very matter-of-factly.

Fiona sat up straight at the mention of the Sheriff. "What'd he want?" although Fiona already knew.

"He was inquiring about the incident at the saloon last night. One of the onlookers mentioned it to him. I told Simms my side of the story. He believed me," Charon said flatly.

"Wow, I slept right through that conversation, huh?" Fiona asked.

"I did not want to wake you, so we spoke outside. He warned me not to be baited like that again. He also mentioned that some citizens will want an excuse to run me off, and that I'd be wise not to give them one." Charon lowered his head almost imperceptibly. He was wary enough after his outburst last night, and now had to inform his employer about his unwelcome presence in her town. He desperately did not want to be let go.

Fiona released a long tired sigh. People sure didn't waste time when it came to reactionary racism. She placed the icy cola bottle on her forehead, relaxing as it relieved the early afternoon heat. The cool condensation rolled down her face, along the curve of her jaw and dripped onto her throat. "Yeah, for every decent person in this town there are five assholes to compensate," Fiona said. "It's not like those idiots don't see Gob practically every day. What are they afraid of?' She paused, "Well, your appearance is a bit more threatening than Gob's…" she trailed off. She was avoiding having the conversation about last night and she knew it. "Hey, while we're talking about that, do you think you could do me a favor?" Charon nodded and took a few steps closer, ready to accept whatever task he was given.

Fiona finished her soda and put the empty bottle on the table, biting her bottom lip as she figured out how to ask this particular favor. In Charon's case, technically, it was an order. "Speaking of Gob being timid and given what you said last night…" Charon tensed slightly, almost too small too notice, but Fiona did. "… Well I was thinking that you could help him."

"You wish for me to kill Moriarty?" It was a task he'd gladly accept, but no matter how stealthy the kill, the blame would almost certainly come back to him after last night's incident. Surely she knew that.

"No. Well, not exactly." Biting her lip again, she continued. "I want you help Gob become more… confident. He's been worn down by years of abuse from that monster and it's the emotional damage that keeps him from doing anything about it." Charon looked confused. "Look, you were absolutely right in what you said last night… about Gob," she clarified. "He isn't physically bound to obey. There's no explosive collar keeping him there but the chains are all in here," she tapped a finger against her temple. "He has the opportunity to get out of there every day. But he needs help to see that. I think he'd listen to you. You've been through what he's going through, and much worse I'm sure."

This was without a doubt the _strangest_ order he'd ever been given. And there had been some weird ones over the years. Charon stood for a moment, absorbing the information he'd just received. Finally he spoke. "How… How am I supposed to help him become confident?" He was truly at a loss as to how he should proceed.

Fiona nodded. If he required more structure and orders, then she would provide him with instructions. "You start small. You swing by the bar for a drink from time to time. Sometimes with me, but other times alone. Gob is _dying_ for people to talk to who aren't going to sneer at him. I'm hoping that as he starts to open up to you a bit you can talk to him about your experiences," she paused. "The ones you are comfortable enough to share, that is. Let him see how much opportunity he really has to take charge of his life." Fiona paused, looking to Charon who, though attentive, also looked apprehensive. "Basically, I want you to help him see what you said last night. Only, no yelling at him."

Charon was a fighter, not a "helper." He had meant what he'd said last night and would certainly welcome the opportunity to see Gob snap and kill his asshole boss. However, Charon's approach to problem-solving had always been much more direct. It usually involved violence. What Fiona was asking was certainly outside of his comfort zone. His thoughts were interrupted when she began again.

"A few suggestions. Do not tell him that I told you to do this, obviously. Also, don't tell him bluntly what you think about his situation. No one with _serious_ problems has ever been helped by simple advice-giving. Plus, if what you say rubs him the wrong way or makes him feel worthless-er… then he'll stop listening, period." She continued. "If he relives a traumatic story, that's fine. Sympathize. But no pity… not that you're the pitying type… and help him focus on the positive aspects. Like, if there's something he does to stand up for himself or anyone else, then point that out. Amplify whatever strength he shows and help him see how much worth he still has. The goal is to get him strong enough to walk out of there."

Charon cocked his head slightly. "Or to get him strong enough to kill Moriarty?"

Fiona smirked. "That would be a huge bonus, yes. But the ultimate goal is helping him become stronger as a person so that he can move on with his life." She paused to access Charon's demeanor. He was still standing stiff and listening to orders like he had their first day together. "Is this something you're comfortable doing, Charon?"

He hesitated and thought. "I have never done anything like this before. My previous employers always used my more… direct… problem-solving skills. However, I was trained briefly in reconnaissance and espionage. I believe I _can_ do what you are asking of me. But…" he paused, "is this not something you are better suited for?" He was not trying to be insubordinate, but Fiona was a much better choice for the kind of… secret therapy she was proposing he perform.

"I thought about that," she said. "But no, I think it should be you. I can't relate to what he's going through. You can. Also…" she hesitated. "I'm naïve about a lot of things but I'm not totally clueless. He is a guy who is desperate for attention… and affection. And I don't want to lead him on. Spending a ton of time talking to him, complimenting him and making him feel strong, could be misread very very easily. He's a sweet guy and I do like him but-"

"But he's a ghoul." Charon finished her thought somberly.

Fiona smirked. "Actually, I was going to say he's kind of a pussy." Fiona looked ashamed. "I know that's awful to say." With that, Charon gave a small chuckle. "Just remember when you're infiltrating his psyche that you're doing it to help him, not steal secrets, ok?"

This got a tiny smirk out of Charon, cracking his stony façade. Fiona smiled. "So…" she trailed off nervously. _Just get on with it,_ she thought. "Charon, sit down." She motioned to the arm chair across from her. "I thought about what you said last night." Charon nodded as he sat. "As a young person, I guess I don't think a lot about death. What you told me last night about…" she paused. "What you said about what will happen when you need a new employer… well you're right. I don't know who your next employer will be and if you really do believe you'd be happier being treated like…" Fiona couldn't even say the word. "But I _can't_ do it, Charon. I don't think I'm capable of treating you like anything other than human being. I guess I was hoping that over time we could be be friends, and the contract would… not matter." Charon cocked his head suspiciously. "I mean, I know it will always _matter_ but I had hoped that for however many years we are together you could just be… happy. That's what I want as your employer. I want a friend and companion who has my back. You told me what you wanted last night. But, I want you to tell me honestly, whether it makes you uncomfortable or not, if you _really_ do want me to be less kind. Or maybe last night you were feeling overwhelmed and got scared?"

Charon's eyes widened slightly at the thought. "I do not know." He too, had been thinking a lot about what was said last night. After he left Fiona and went to his room, he sat awake on his new bed for a while trying to process things. He could not get the look on her face as he left the room of his head. He felt ill knowing that his words, though true, had made her unhappy. But Charon could not reconcile the feeling of guilt he experienced every time she showed him compassion.

She was still sitting there, looking at him with bright expectant eyes. Charon felt his chest tighten and his stomach drop. She was letting him think, but he did have to give an answer. He raised his head and met her gaze again. "Both."

Fiona was confused. "Both? Um, ok. Well, can you… explain?"

"I meant what I said. However, perhaps feeling overwhelmed due to recent changes played a part in how I expressed myself. The truth is…" Charon hesitated. "I do not deserve your kindness."

Fiona's face grew hard. "Bullshit," she said sternly.

"It's true." Charon's voice grew just as stern. "If you knew half the things I had done in the last 50 years you never would have purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal. You would have turned around and trekked the metros by yourself rather than associate with me."

Fiona sat, startled. "Whatever you did under his orders… Charon it wasn't you." She rose, crossed the small coffee table and rested on her knees at his feet. His face was still dark and hard. "Charon, I know that under your own free will you would never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it."

"That's the fucking point!" Charon bellowed mere inches her face and he leaned down to be closer to her eye level. Fiona rose half way, only to tumble backwards, landing on her rear and her shoulders bumping the table behind her. Still seated and leaning forward, Charon's eyes were sad and full of self-loathing. He lowered his tone but his voice was strained.

"I don't _have_ free will. I am a living weapon. And whoever has that dumb fucking contract has their finger on the trigger. If you ordered me to slaughter everyone in this town, I would do it. Not because I wanted to. I'd be _compelled_ to do it. And no amount of fighting it in my head would change anything. I'm fucking trapped." He seemed sadly resigned. "Having you as an employer is the best thing that's happened to me since the bombs fell but eventually I'll end up back in the hands of some sociopath and I'll be a weapon again." He leaned closer, speaking softly now, but barely containing the tightness of his voice. "I've worked long and hard to try and shut off my emotions because having them doesn't do me any good. All I can do is feel them, but they don't do a thing to drive my behavior when I get an order I want to resist. I learned a long time ago that it was easier to just shut down and let… just let things happen. In in less than a week you undid decades of work. And yes, I freaked out last night…" Charon leaned back slowly, calming and aware of the uncomfortable distance he'd been closing between himself and his employer. He took a breath and spoke softly and sincerely. "But I did not wish to upset you when I did so."

Fiona, rising back up to her knees, leaned forward towards him. "I know, Charon. I know. I just… please help me understand you. I spent all last night reading every psychological journal I could find from before the war. I was awake until 5am. After you blew up like that I just wanted to understand. So please, can you help me? Because none of this matches up with what I have learned about brainwashing. If you don't truly believe in any of the old servitude propaganda anymore…" She trailed off.

Charon sat, stunned, and his chest grew tighter. He had no idea she'd been up all night because of him. And she'd not been angry or insulted, but wanted to help him. "It is hard to explain. And I honestly know anything about the 'science' behind what was done to me." His face went distant for a moment. "I just know it sucked."

"That's ok. I just want to understand things from your perspective. You said before that you try to fight it? But you're somehow still compelled, and your will isn't strong enough. Is that correct?" Charon nodded. "Has it always been that way?"

"No," Charon said as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together tightly. "I remember a time when," he gave a rueful chuckle, "when I actually believed everything they'd drilled into me. That my purpose was to serve, unquestioningly. That serving my employer made me happy and gave me fulfillment. And it did, for a very long time." Charon closed his eyes as he spoke. These memories were old and hazy. "For a long time I didn't notice the compulsion behind it all. I thought I _wanted_ to obey. Hell, I did genuinely want to obey. At first. Eventually I started feeling different. I would question orders or disagree with an employer, never out loud. It wasn't my place. I would still carry out the order, of course. But years went by and eventually I didn't believe any of it anymore. But every time I tried to walk away from that stupid piece of paper my feet wouldn't move. I wasn't scared or nervous. They just Would. Not. Move. And it happened every time I tried to go against my training. I'd try to fight it but my body would obey."

Fiona leaned forward slightly. She brought one hand to rest on his two enormous clasped fists. He opened his eyes a lifted his gaze to her. "So eventually I just gave up. I tried to make myself believe in it all again because it was so much easier that way. And when I had decent employers it wasn't so bad, since they never made me do anything abhorrent. But occasionally I'd end up with an employer who was… less than moral. And that's when I was reminded of how little control I had over myself." Charon paused to relax, his voice was becoming tight again. Fiona's small smooth hand was resting on top of his ruined fists and he wanted so much to touch her. He wanted to unclasp his hands and take her small hand in his. But he didn't dare.

"It's…" he paused to find a decent analogy. "It's like I am in a car but someone else is driving. And for years it didn't matter because the driver was going where I was headed anyway. But once I started to snap out of it… well, it didn't matter what I told the driver. He wasn't listening and he had the wheel. Now, I'm just along for the ride." He felt her small hand tighten on his and when he looked up he saw her eyes had gone glassy with the beginnings of tears. But she did not cry. Her face was concerned and she sat at his feet, deep in thought.

After several moments of silence she said "Charon, you're not brainwashed. This is… this is something else entirely." She rose and began pacing the side of the room, her mind on fire with this new information. She'd suspected some sort of conflicting belief systems in his mind, but this was far more confusing.

Charon sat stoically, having shared openly per his employers request. It was difficult to tell her these things but in a very strange way he felt lighter… until he noticed the dark look on Fiona's face as she paced the room. His eyes tracked her back and forth for what seemed like an hour. Every minute she went without looking at or speaking to him, the more nervous Charon got. Had he shared too much? Was she second guessing his employment? Finally, Fiona stopped and sat back down in the chair across from him.

"Ok, I have a few theories but… not sure how to test them…" she spoke, mostly to herself. As she looked to Charon she noticed the masked look of worry on his face. She quickly reassured him. "I'm really happy you talked to me, Charon. I'm not angry. Well, not at you. If I had a fucking time machine I'd…" she trailed off. She took a deep breath. She'd need more time to think about this. Meanwhile, she needed to tell Charon about her ideas for his, perhaps not inevitable, future employment.

"Anyway, um… do you feel any better?" she asked.

Charon shrugged. "I am not sure. Perhaps…"

"Well, I was thinking last night after you went to bed about… your next employer. Whoever that may be. And you were right to be concerned about who would get your contract next." She looked Charon in the eyes and asked, "Do you remember the combination to the safe, Charon?"

He nodded. "Yes. It is 092-777."

"Correct. Remember it. Because _if_ something happens unexpectedly, if some asshole gets a lucky shot, then _you_ are the only other person who can get to your contract. That means that until that contract is in someone else's hands, you don't have an employer."

Charon got itchy at the thought of anything happening to Fiona, even hypothetically. "But I would need to find a new one. I…" he paused as he felt a tension headache beginning in the back of his head. "I cannot leave it in the safe and be 'free' just because no one can touch it. I will be compelled to give it to someone." He felt more pathetic by the moment admitting these things to Fiona.

"I thought as much," she said. "That's why it's important that _you_ will be the only one able to access it. That means that compulsion or not, _you_ will control whose hand it goes into next." Charon felt a wave of realization wash over him. She was absolutely right. He would be compelled to find a new employer, _but_ no one unsavory could order him to open the safe either. "Hopefully we don't have to worry about that for a very very long time," she continued, "but I wanted you to know that I did listen last night. And I will do everything in my power, even if I'm dead, to take care of you."

In that moment, Charon realized that she was not only the best employer he'd ever had, but maybe the best person he'd ever met. And he would, contract or no, do anything for her… even help that sad pathetic ghoul at the bar. He just hoped that, with everything he'd shared, she didn't see him as weak-willed and pathetic now too.


	21. Chapter 21: Miserable Messiah

They were perched on a small dusty cliff a few hours from Megaton, lying flat and keeping out of sight. An old tarp lay over them, propped up by a few strategically placed sticks. At a distance, the dirty, rumpled covering made them indistinguishable from the blasted landscape of the wasteland and would hide any dust kicked up when a shot was fired. Charon's breathing was steady and controlled, his newly repaired sniper rifle set up and aimed. Keeping his trigger finger outside of the guard, his body was prone and ready to fire in an instant. Lying next to him was Fiona, also practicing the steady breathing she'd been taught. Ideally, a spotter's scope was only a single lens, allowing the spotter to switch back and forth easily from near to far range vision. However, binoculars were the best they could find in the wasteland. Fiona had one lens over her right eye, keeping the second lens out of the way. There was a slight haze from the piece of sheer stocking Charon had stretched over the end, but it was a small price to pay to kill the reflective flare that would have given their position away in an instant.

She could feel the rocky terrain through the thin bedrolls they were both laying on. Even through her leather armor, she was growing uncomfortable. Her elbows would be bruised for sure. She shifted slightly again, earning her a warning grunt from Charon. They had to be still and not draw attention to themselves. Charon's body was rough and worn from centuries of adaptation to the wasteland and he could maintain this position for hours if need be. Fiona let out a small sigh as she glanced over to him, steady and solid, and as unmoving as the rest of the landscape.

The last week had flown by for the two of them. After their discussion about the contract, Charon seemed reassured, then became a little distant again for a few days. But, he began relaxing eventually. It seemed to be a pattern with him: be stiff and robotic, slowly warm up and start relaxing, get overwhelmed, vent his feelings, relax but retreat back to stiff roboticism, slowly warm up… repeat. However, every time he did retreat back into himself, it was for shorter and shorter periods. Charon was relaxing. He was feeling human again. But after centuries of servitude, Fiona knew she would need to to be patient.

She had spent her time since then diving deeper into her pre-war psychological studies. The archives were immense and there were articles she still wanted to read through. When Fiona was around town by herself, though even then Charon was usually somewhere nearby, she tried to go about life as normally as possible. The friends she had made all expressed a bit of worry about her new companion. Billy Creel especially, though not a ghoul-hater, did not like the idea of some strange mercenary she'd just met a week ago living in her home. Fiona reassured him as best she could, but knew that part of that concern stemmed from a bit of jealousy. She wasn't blind to Billy's affection for her.

She'd also been back to visit Gob twice. Charon had refused to let her go into the saloon alone and insisted on accompanying her. Both times, she ignored Moriarty and his jabs. While the old bastard still tried to get under her skin, he did not cross the lines he had on the night he'd first met Charon. Gob seemed much the same. He was in slightly better spirits now that he had some company, but still quite helpless and depressed. She knew his issues would take time as well.

Charon had gone alone to the dim and dusty saloon for an afternoon beer by himself a few times. On his solo visits, he only encountered Moriarty once as the man exited the back room. The Irishman smirked and offered up a drink "on the house" as an olive branch. Charon was highly suspicious until Gob assured him in private that the beverage had been neither poisoned nor pissed in. Unable to keep his mouth shut, Moriarty did offer one small insult as he walked towards the door to smoke outside. Commenting on the similarities of their garments, Moriarty jested loudly "People will think we're twins. How're they ever gonna tell the two of us apart?" The light chuckles from the rest of the bar patrons turned into genuine laughter when Charon retorted "I'm the tall one." Disappointed not to get a rise from the ghoul, he had simply nodded and excused himself. Each subsequent visit, the lecherous bastard made himself surprisingly scarce when Charon was at the bar without Fiona to hold him back. According to Gob, Sheriff Simms had given Moriarty a very stern warning after the brief scuffle on Charon's first visit.

Paraphrasing, the ghoul bartender whispered "Yeah, Simms told Moriarty that the next time he practically begs you to kill him, he should remember that no one in this town even likes him so it's doubtful anyone would jump in to save him." Gob smirked a little, remembering that lecture. "And then he says 'Sure Charon'll get run out of town or lynched for killing you, Moriarty. But _you'll_ still be dead.' I think that got through to him a little. Ya know, he realized you're not… like me."

Charon sighed. That was a very clear opening for… something. He wasn't sure what. He remembered everything Fiona had told him but he struggled to implement it. Talking to the passive ghoul was frustrating for Charon. He had nothing against him personally, but he saw so little, and yet so much, of himself in the sad eyes of the slave that it was hard not to start yelling. "Yeah, well he's not holding my contract," Charon said very softly. The other patrons were in the side room or at the far table. They tended to give Charon lots of space when he sat down at the bar. Charon didn't mind, since it prevented eavesdropping. "It's easier to stand up to someone when they really don't have anything to hold over you. I popped Ahzrukhal the instant my contract left his hands." He smiled remembering the satisfying explosion of the back of his old master's head. "I'd been dreaming about that for years." Pausing to let Gob think about it, Charon asked, "So? How about you? How long have you been thinking about it and when are you gonna snap?" Admittedly, that was far more to-the-point than he probably should have been, but this was not Charon's normal type of job.

Gob's eyes widened and he looked nervously around. They had been speaking softly and none of the patrons made any indication that they'd overheard anything. Still, he hesitated to answer. "I, uh," he began, "I can't just… ya know. I'd get caught or… or mess up and then he'd kill me instead." Charon sighed. Fiona had felt terrible when she'd called Gob a pussy. She'd later backpedalled and made excuses for him. But Charon had to agree. At least Nova's excuse was that the bastard had her hooked on Jet. Withdrawal from that drug was brutal and it was one of the hardest to kick. The prostitute probably would have killed the man herself by now if she were ever cognizant enough to put together a good plan. Charon could tell, despite her flippant attitude, that Nova had a soft spot for the passive ghoul.

Gob paused and continued. "And then if I died, there'd be nobody around to draw his fire when he got pissed." Charon looked up at that and shot the ghoul a questioning look. Gob looked down, a bit embarrassed. "Yeah, uh, well when he's in a foul mood he lashes out. Usually at me but sometimes at Nova." Gob's voice was extremely low, barely audible, but thick with anger as he twisted the dishrag he used for cleaning into a tight knot. "And he knows how to bring pain without leaving marks if he puts his mind to it. And I… before it gets to that I try to draw his attention. Like, I dunno, drop a glass or spill something. Then he forgets why he was mad at her and just comes at me."

Charon was stunned. Gob had more courage than he'd thought. Taking the hits for someone else was noble enough but he still needed to act on a solution. Charon met Gob's eyes and, for the first time, his face held a bit of sympathy. But only a bit. "You're strong enough to take the hits for her. You might surprise yourself." Charon said in a low voice, keeping his tone and body language very casual so that the two did not appear to be conspiratorial. Shrugging, Charon finished off his beer, nodded to Gob in an understood gesture of 'later' and headed back to the house.

When he wasn't working on the "Gob problem" for Fiona, Charon spent his time fixing the sniper rifle he'd acquired and, out of habit, performing a security assessment of the town. The welded scrap metal walls were relatively secure but he found a few weak spots that could be exploited if someone tried hard enough. Part of his inspection included walking the outside perimeter of the town and checking for weaknesses there.

His interest in the town's defenses did not go unnoticed and Stockholm, the town watchman and sniper, soon alerted the Sheriff. Charon was on the dusty ground, trying to gauge how deep the walls' foundations were buried, when Simms came up behind him. He asked the ghoul in a very curt tone what the hell he was doing, holding his rifle at the ready. Charon kept calm and was not intimidated. He simply stood up, dusted off his hands, and proceeded to point out the weak spots he'd found. Charon recommended the construction of an additional sniper perch to watch for anyone approaching from the opposite end of town. Demonstrating his point, he took Simms to a large rock behind the very back end of Megaton that, upon inspection, turned out to be hollow. Inside were some stimpaks, a Stealth Boy, a sniper rifle and a note for whoever was supposed to pick up the items. It read:

S,

Here's that stuff you wanted. If anyone asks where you got it - say it was a gift from your grandma.

Happy hunting!

E

Simms, read the note a few times. He couldn't be positive yet, but he was pretty sure "E" was none other than the leader of the slavers at Paradise Falls, Eulogy Jones. Simms was furious with himself. Slavers were using the shadow of the back of his town as a drop point and he'd had no idea. Charon was glad to find a free sniper rifle. It had the missing part he needed to finish repairing his own.

The shaken Sheriff thanked him politely and jogged back to the gates. Later that night, there was a knock on the door while Fiona read and Charon completed the last repairs to his rifle. Opening the door cautiously, Charon was met with a very tired looking Sheriff Simms. He rewarded Charon with 300 caps for pointing out the disappointing weaknesses in the town's security and discussed some of the suggestions Charon had made to improve fortifying the walls. Fiona couldn't help but smile a bit as the two men talked shop. Simms also mentioned that they were trying to figure out who "S" was. While an initial wasn't much to go on, he had a few ideas. The most likely suspect so far was Sam Warrick, a "lone raider" who wandered the wastes killing indiscriminately. He often did dirty work for Jones and was an infamous sniper. The other, though less likely, possibility was Seagrave Holmes of Rivet City. Though he supposedly stopped dealing with the slavers some years ago, it was always possible he had resumed business with them. The reference in the note to a grandmother was unusual, and Holmes' grandmother was one of the original council members of the floating city.

Simms agreed with Charon about the need for an additional sniper perch, but construction would take a while and then they would need to find a sniper to post in it. He also alerted the pair that there was some increasing rumbling among the townspeople now that it was obvious Charon was living here, not passing through. Fiona's jaw went tight but Simms assured them he'd try to keep any trouble contained. However, he did warn Charon to "be nice", a task easier said than done, then tipped his hat and left.

Charon's unexpected income, which Fiona insisted he keep for himself, was a pleasant surprise. However, they soon headed out into the wastes to scavenge before money got too tight. Fiona wanted to have plenty of caps before they headed out next week to, hopefully, find her father at the Jefferson. And now, on this dry cliff, they waited.

Fiona was trying her best to breath deeply and not cough or sneeze as the dust from the parched earth invaded her mouth and nostrils. She was incredibly hot, exhausted after only a few hours of walking and all the focused staring was making her vision blur. Blinking her eyes to focus once again, she tracked the movements of the raider guarding a small shack. They had seen the group of four moving along the horizon an hour ago, each one carrying sacks of loot. They'd decided to follow, at a distance, and tracked them here. Fiona was understandably uncomfortable about confronting raiders after her last experience, so Charon decided this would be a good opportunity to use his new sniper rifle.

"You still remember what I told you about how to judge wind?" whispered Charon. Being a proper spotter was part art, part science and entirely too much to teach Fiona in a short time so Charon had limited it to drilling her on how to estimate wind at the target using environmental signs.

"Yep," replied Fiona, as she began to look for things that she could use to indicate what kind of wind, if any, was at the shack. There! She saw a shimmer from the heat waves coming off the ground in front of the shack. _Let's see… bent about 45-degrees to the left… we'll call that 5 mph. _"5 mph blowing right to left."

Charon took the wind estimates from Fiona and started crunching the numbers in his head. He estimated the range to be about 400 meters but wanted to confirm it. When the roving guard walking around the outside of the shack paused in place for a smoke break, he measured the width of his torso by the graduated range-finding marks on the cross hairs. The raider's torso exactly matched the width of the line marked for 450 meters. He now had to take into consideration the distance, wind, angle of the downward slope that the target would be at, as well as characteristics of the bullets he was using in order to make the proper adjustments to his aim in order to hit his target. He didn't have any ballistics performance data or "Dope" on the gun he was using so he had to estimate the best he could.

"Here's the plan," said Charon and Fiona perked up expectantly. "I'm going to shoot the guard. Then I'll shoot everyone that comes out."

Some moments passed before Fiona realized he was finished. "So that's the big plan? Shoot everyone?"

Charon gave a tiny shrug without looking at her. "It's four guys, not Operation Anchorage."

"Huh?" replied Fiona quizzically.

_Sigh…"_Never mind. Before your time."

Charon adjusted himself one final time. "Ok, here goes." Taking a calm breath and exhaling, Charon squeezed the trigger. Fiona startled as she felt the shockwave of the gun ripple through their makeshift ghillie tent. Every rifle fires differently and Charon hated using an unfamiliar gun for the first time in combat. In hindsight, he should have practiced with it first, but he'd only finished the repairs last night. As the shot went wide, Charon silently cursed and readjusted. Sound travels about 343 meters per second. At 450 meters, it would take a little over 1 1/4 seconds before the sound of the gunshot registered with the target.

By the time the raider heard the shot and began looking for its source, Charon had compensated and took a second shot. This one was on the mark, hitting the raider in the head. As his mostly headless body crumpled to the ground, he saw the door to the shack creep open. The second raider was dead before he even cleared the doorway, causing the one behind him to trip and fall momentarily. While the raider was still on his knees, he took a shot to the head as well. The last raider was a bit smarter than the others. He jumped agilely over the corpses of his buddies and began running in a zig zag formation away from the source of fire. It was smart, and made getting a head shot very difficult. Luckily, Charon was skilled enough to hit a man's center mass despite these hindrances. The shot rang out and the raider took a hit to his side. As he writhed on the ground, he was immobile enough for Charon to finish him off with a clean shot to the head. He knew better than to leave a wounded target for dead and walk away, unlike the raiders at the caverns.

Laying next to Charon in the cover of their camouflage, Fiona smiled wide. "Charon! You are awesome!" she exclaimed as she leaned over and gave him a sideways hug. Charon simply shrugged, but subtly leaned into her touch. Fiona wore a smug grin on her face and they carefully descended the hill, no longer worried about the trail of dust kicking up behind them. They'd been scouting the area for over an hour and knew they were the only ones out here. Still, they had to be cautious.

She and Charon stood on either side of the doorway into the shack and cleared the room, like he had shown her previously. Each taking on one side of the room, they glanced inside the rusty shack to make sure there was no one else waiting within. With no one else in sight, they exited and began scaving the corpses. After picking the raiders clean they went inside to find anything of value. It was dark except for the light of a small lamp in the far corner, casting a long shadows down the length of the room. As they began rummaging through the sacks and cabinets, Charon's head perked up.

"Shh-" he placed a hand on Fiona's shoulder. He motioned to the far end on the room, in a corner darkened by shadow. They listened and heard it again. A scratching sound. Fiona immediately stiffened. They had missed someone. Whoever it was, was either smart enough to hide or passed out and twitching. Charon moved silently to the lamp and gently lifted it with one hand. Then in one fluid motion he swung it forward and aimed his shotgun with the other hand. Fiona had her plasma rifle drawn as well, her trigger finger spasming from the surge of adrenaline and ready to liquify someone. The light leapt forward and the pair searched for their target.

But the corner was empty, save for a few crates. Confused, they cast a glance at each other. Then, they heard scratching again. Charon pushed Fiona behind him and slowly made his way over to the crates. The scratching became louder. The closest crate had a tarp thrown over it and he ripped it off quickly, taking aim at whatever was inside, ready to fire.

Fiona saw Charon pull the tarp quickly and aim his shotgun. She was ready in an instant to back him up. But Charon never fired. He looked into the box and cocked his head in confusion. He looked again, then lowered his gun. Scratching the back of his neck, he looked to Fiona. "It's ok, just a scrawny mutt. He's half starved so I don't think he's got the energy to get out of that box, much less attack." Charon put the shotgun back over his shoulder and continued digging through the raider packs. Fiona, however, now had much more important things to do.

"A dog? A friendly one, like in the holotapes?!" She flew over to the crate and shone her Pip Boy light inside. Sure enough, there was a very skinny dog inside, looking up at her timidly, but hopeful. He was gray and black with one blue and one brown eye. She didn't know anything about dog breeds, not that there would be any sort of pure bred dog in the wasteland anyway, but to her it looked like he… was it a he? She glanced around its backside, which was now up and wiggling. Yep, it was a he. He looked a little similar to police dogs she'd seen in pre-war movies. Belgian Herders? German Shepherds? She couldn't quite remember but she was already in love with the happy ball of fur looking up at her. As soon as the animal realized he wasn't going to be hit, he stood up on his hind legs and got his face close enough to lick Fiona on the nose.

Giggling, she shouted "Charon! He likes me! Maybe we can take him home and fatten him up and he can be like a guard dog for the house."

Charon grumbled deep in his chest. He was afraid she was going to say that. She hadn't given an order yet, technically, so he still had time to talk her out of it. "You already have the robot guarding the house. And it doesn't eat, sleep or shit."

Fiona sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ok, well then he can travel with us and… alert us to danger! And protect me from big bag raiders! Right boy? Are you gonna kill some raiders? Yes, you are!"

For a moment, Charon was a bit insulted. That was, after all, _his_ purpose. Another grumble sounded from his throat. Fiona sighed. Leaving the dog momentarily, which caused the creature to whine frantically, she went to Charon and sat down on top of a desk near the lamp. He stood from where he was squatted on the floor and faced her.

"Charon," she began, "if you _really_ don't want a dog then… then we won't take him. But I can't help but feel for him. Those raiders obviously starved and abused him and if we don't take care of him he could die here." The look in her eyes was heart breaking. Charon knew that if he refused, she would indeed leave the dog… probably after feeding it all their food and giving it all of their water. But he also loved how excited she got when she ran over to the crate and began talking to the mongrel. Ever since she'd nearly been raped, her smile had been a bit dimmer and her laughter a bit softer. Fiona didn't talk about it and acted like she was fine, but he could tell she wasn't quite herself. Her squeal of joy when she got her face slobbered on by that mangy beast was exactly what he'd been longing to hear, he realized.

Charon sighed loudly in defeat, grumbling again. Fiona knew that sound. "Yes!" She ran clumsily over to the crate and lifted the dog by the loose skin of his neck, while the beast gripped the edges with long nails and scrambled out. The animal could barely hold still in its excitement as, sure enough, Fiona began taking out packs of food and putting them on a cracked plate on the floor. A can of pork and beans and a package of Salisbury steak both disappeared in moments.

Before she could literally give the animal all of their food, Charon chimed in. "You should not feed him too much all at once. Best case scenario, he pukes. Worst case, he projectile shits everywhere in a few hours and we'll be back to the house by then." Finding a dented pot she fished around in her pack for some water. Charon tossed her a bottle of dirty water from his supplies. "Don't waste your purified stuff on the mutt." Fiona shrugged and, reluctantly, agreed.

Once he was full and hydrated, the dog tagged along at Fiona's feet while they picked the shack clean. The raiders had some pretty good stuff, likely killed for, and they took the easiest to carry and most valuable items. There was tons of ammo, a few decent weapons and chems, of course. As they rested for a moment before heading out, Fiona looked to Charon.

"Thank you," she said softly, giving him a shy smile. Every time she smiled at him he made an effort to keep his face blank. It wasn't always easy.

"It is your decision. Don't know why you asked. You can do what you want." Charon said, lighting a cigarette to keep his lips occupied.

"I know I didn't have to ask permission, but a dog will effect you too. I'm not an asshole, you know." She almost sounded upset.

Quickly, Charon said, "I know." He hesitated, "Thanks for asking me."

Fiona smiled a genuine smile, the one that always made Charon's head feel light. She closed her eyes slowly and sank to the ground against the wall of the shack, leaning her head back against the rusty sheet metal. The dog shuffled to her feet, laying down as well. After a few more minutes, Charon discarded his cigarette and rose and suggested they head out while there was enough time to get home by dark. Fiona stirred and struggled to stand.

"Come on, smoothskin. Not tired after a few hours of hiking, are you? And an hour of that was laying down," he teased.

She huffed. "I just needed a minute. It's hot as balls in here and my vision is still fucked up from staring through that lens for an hour. Must have… given me a headache. Smartass." She swatted at him playfully as he easily dodged. The dog barked excitedly.

As the pair headed back towards home, the dog paced in a figure eight pattern around their legs, nearly tripping them on occasion. He was taking in every smell he could from the two new people he had claimed. As he followed beside them and found something particularly interesting near Charon's feet, Fiona asked, "So, what should we name him? Maybe something strong and confident. Something badass for the wasteland. Like… Bruiser! Or Fang!" She thought another moment. "Or Spike!"

Charon eyed the mutt warily as it continued to trot beside him, still sniffing his feet. "His name is gonna be dog meat if he pisses on my boots," the ghoul growled at the animal, to no effect.

"Ok, that's fair. You get to name him. You hear that, Dogmeat? Charon just named you!" she teased.

Charon grumbled as they made their way home.

* * *

By the time they reached the gates of Megaton, Fiona was weak with exhaustion and Charon was carrying both of their packs. Dogmeat wasn't faring much better, but he had the excuse of near-starvation. As they descended the slope into town the ground began to tilt and sway in a manner Fiona had not seen since her trip to the Washington Monument.

Charon was following along side Fiona as they made their way through the gates. Ignoring the stares and poorly concealed whispers of a few people, he was watching Fiona carefully. About an hour ago her cranky tiredness had turned into weakness. He insisted on carrying her load and it helped for a while, but she was now barely standing. He'd offered to carry her in addition to both packs, a task that would have strained him but not been impossible, but she'd refused. Fiona insisted that she could make it home and just needed to rest. Charon made her drink an entire bottle of purified water, but dehydration did not seem to be the issue. He was wondering if this was something that would require that asshole doctor, Church, when he noticed Fiona's footing begin to falter. Just as she tipped forward, Charon dove and caught her unconscious body before it hit the worn dirt path.

He kept his demeanor calm and collected, but Charon's mind was far from it. He scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way down the hill towards the clinic. Charon felt helpless and hated not knowing how to fix something. His heart was beating rapidly as his feet pounded the earth, jogging to the doctor's shack. With his hands full, the ghoul stopped at the top of the ramp and kicked the thin metal door open, startling the doctor who appeared to have been napping at his desk.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Someone had better be dying or swear I'll-" the doctor stopped when he saw that the ghoul was indeed carrying a body. "Alright, set her down." The doctor motioned towards a cot in the back. The dark-skinned man had even darker circles under his eyes and Charon wondered if he was in any state to be treating his employer. However, the doctor moved swiftly and efficiently, examining Fiona and "hmm-"ing now and again. Breaking the silence he asked Charon, "How long has she been unconscious?"

"Only a minute. She passed out inside the gates. She complained about not feeling well a few hours ago, and an hour ago said she felt weak. She's been complaining about being hot for a few hours too. She ate a big breakfast, but nothing since then. But she's had plenty of water." Charon wanted to get all of the information out to help the doctor move faster to do… whatever it was he was going to do. Charon was so concerned with Fiona that he didn't notice the mutt had followed him into the shack. The animal began pacing and whining.

"Get that thing out of here!" Church snapped. Charon shooed the dog outside where he continued to sit, staring indoors at his people. Finally Church spoke. "Well, she's got one hell of a fever. She's burning up. It looks like a virus again."

"Again?" Charon asked. "Is there some sort of sickness in this town?" His mind went blind with anger for not investigating the biological safety of the town. He spent so much time focusing on dangers from outside the walls that he'd forgotten that most dangers struck close to home. Before he could get worked up enough to start tearing the town apart the doctor replied.

"No, there's nothing wrong with the town," he said with a trace of insult. "She's just still not used to the wasteland is all." He wiped his hands and prepared a syringe of Med-X. Injecting her with about half a dose, he continued. "She lived underground so long that her immune system is only adapted to the bugs down there. Sure they've got bacteria and viruses and whatnot, but not many from what she tells me. It's pretty damn clean. The wasteland is teaming with shit, but most people get immune to the little stuff. Or immune enough not to die." The doctor prepared a small bag of medicine on the table. "She got sick as hell her first week on the surface. Spent a few days in here with me. But now that she's not fuckin' homeless," Church tossed the bag to Charon, who caught it easily, "she doesn't have to take up room in my clinic."

Fiona began to stir, looking weakly around. "Love you too, doc. You say the nicest things." Laying her head back down, she groaned.

"See?" Church, said. "If she's still a sarcastic bitch, she's fine." Cleaning his supplies Church added, "One half-dose of Med-X every 12 hours. She's tiny so try not to give her more than that. It'll keep the fever from getting too high while her body fights it. Keep her hydrated and warm. She's gonna want to sleep a lot, so let her. If the fever does not go down by tonight come get me…" he paused. "But ONLY if it hasn't gone down. I don't wanna hear that she looks pale, or she's nauseous or any of that. That stuff is normal and there's nothing I can do about it anyway. Oh, but if she looses consciousness again, that's the other one that'd be worrisome."

Fiona sat up and shakily swung her legs over the cot, attempting to stand. But she was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. Charon swiftly lifted her into his arms. "I don't think so, smoothskin. You're not walking anywhere."

"Charon," she whined, "It's ok, I can make it to the house." He gave her a determined stare. "Fine, carry me."

As the ghoul exited the clinic with Fiona in his arms, two large packs on his back and a strange dog at his heels, it was difficult for the townspeople _not_ to stare. Climbing the hill to the house, Charon realized Fiona had the key, and she'd probably be angry if he kicked the door down on her own home. He loudly knocked on the door with a knuckle, hoping the robot wasn't in standby mode somewhere.

A tinny voice answered. "Who is it?" and Charon could hear the faint sound of a blowtorch being lit and a saw warming up.

Charon bellowed, "Wadsworth, open the damn door!" The robot complied and disengaged his weapons upon seeing the two of them.

"Oh my! What has happened? Does madame need medical attention?" the bot hovered both literally and figuratively as Charon ascended the stairs to Fiona's room.

"Already been the the clinic, robot. Just…" he paused, "Gimmie all the purified water you can make."

As Wadsworth dispensed five bottles, Charon carefully laid Fiona down on her bed, dropping the packs in the loft outside. He took the pillow and thin blanket from his room and added it to the ones already on her bed. Dogmeat sat just outside the door, watching and whining occasionally. Fiona weakly sat up, a bit dizzy, and started removing her jacket.

"It's so damn hot. I'm on fire, Charon." She tossed the jacket lazily in the corner and laid back on the bed, spreading her arms and trying to cool down.

"The doctor gave you some Med-X. It should begin working soon. I can give you more in the morning." Charon stood in the center of the room, not wanting to leave her side but at a total loss about what to do. Looking around, he saw the bottles of water that had been dispensed on the desk, and grabbed one. He opened the cap and handed it to her. "He said you should stay hydrated." Fiona drank down about half, then handed it back to Charon. "And to rest."

Fiona flopped back on the bed. "Resting I won't have a problem with. I feel like I could sleep for days." She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep after a few minutes.

Charon sat in the desk chair and watched her, afraid to leave in case she needed anything. But eventually, a growling stomach demanded attention. He hadn't eaten since breakfast either. He moved downstairs quietly, Dogmeat following close behind. As Charon opened a box of deviled eggs, the animal whined very softly, almost as if it were keeping quiet for Fiona as well. Staring the dog down, Charon whispered "No, my food," and popped another egg into his mouth. Dogmeat softly whined again and looked up at him hopefully. Sighing deeply, Charon relented. "Fine, but only two. Your stomach is still shrunk after starving and if you eat too much you'll be sick. Half the food Fiona fed you is probably still sloshing around in your stomach." As Charon leaned down to place the eggs on the floor he realized, _Did I really just talk to the fucking dog? I must be losing my mind._ Rolling his eyes, he filled a pan with water from the sink for the animal then sat in the living room. He reclined on the sofa, stripped off his armored jacket and tried to relax.

Charon took a deep breath and looked around. From the pre-war furniture to the weird collector's stand for the bobble-heads, Fiona's house was very much… her. This place was so new to him and yet, so familiar already. Since they'd been in Megaton, Charon and Fiona had spent most of their evenings together at the house. They would eat dinner, she would talk on and on about things from her life in the vault, she would ask him random questions about the pre-war days as they came to her… but by the end of the night he would end up doing something with his hands at the workbench and she would settle down on the sofa with one of the articles she'd gotten from the library archives. Their nights were quiet, but comfortable. It was a welcome change for both of them.

But now Charon was at a loss as to what to do with himself and the silence in the house was deafening. He'd finished repairing his gun. He didn't feel like going out for a drink, and even if he did, Charon did not want to leave Fiona alone. Dogmeat had curled up on the living room rug and fallen into a peaceful sleep. As the only conscious individual in the house, Charon he inventoried and organized their packs to kill some time before checking in on Fiona again.

Roughly an hour after he'd left her, Charon walked softly back into her room. When he'd left she had been complaining about heat and was spread out on the bed. But now he saw she had wrapped both blankets around herself and curled into a ball. He got closer and saw that she was shivering. Not knowing of any other blankets in the house, he went into his room and took the long leather jacket he'd bought. He draped it gently over her form, hoping it would be enough. Unwilling to leave again, he sat in her desk chair and tried to fall asleep.

At some point in the night, Fiona woke shivering. She opened her eyes and saw Charon asleep at her desk and his new leather coat draped over her and the blankets. She couldn't help but smile. For a badass, he could be pretty sweet. She let loose an involuntary groan as another wave of chills swept her body. The quiet noise woke Charon immediately and he popped up from the desk and knelt beside her bed.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, just cold. I was hot at first, then got chills. Do I still have a fever?" She moved her head in his direction for him to feel her forehead. Charon nervously reached out, touching gently.

"You are still slightly warm, but the fever is no longer dangerous," he said.

Fiona was confused for a moment. "Your hand felt the same temperature as my head."

"Ghouls run a little hotter than smoothskins," he explained. "If your forehead feels like my hand, I know you have a mild fever."

Fiona perked up. "Ghouls run hot?" She paused, her voice still weak. "If you're not comfortable then absolutely say no but… could you share some of that ghoul heat?" she asked nervously.

Charon thought he was having another fucked up sex dream and stared intently at her face for signs that this fantasy was taking a morbid turn. When nothing seemed out of place he realized she was waiting for an answer and he had given none.

"It's ok," Fiona said. "If it's too weird for-"

"No," he said quickly. "I… did not expect that kind of request." He stood and removed his boots. "How do you want… um…" Charon stumbled over his words, but had no clue how to ask what he was thinking.

Smiling shyly, Fiona moved herself near the wall, opening a space for Charon to lie down. Heart pounding in his head, the ghoul slowly laid face-up on the bed, the mattress protesting softly under his weight. In moments, Fiona's shivering body was pressed against his side. Still wrapped in her covers, she laid her head on his shoulder and reached an arm around his broad chest, squeezing tightly as her body endured another wave of chills. Charon extended his left arm outward so that Fiona could move closer to his shoulder, using his arm as a pillow. She sighed contently and she pressed her body next to his.

"Thank you," she whispered, raising her head. Her warm breath ghosted across his neck and Charon fought to suppress a shiver of his own.

Within minutes Fiona was sound asleep and Charon was staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Though her fever was making her feel chilled, her body was warm. He could feel her hair tickling the exposed muscles of his bicep and her breath on his collar bone. Every once in a while, Charon felt her arm around his chest tighten and pull, as if she were trying to pull him closer, or roll him towards her. After Fiona's forth or fifth unconscious attempt he gently gave in and rolled towards her on his side. With her face tucked into his chest and head resting on his shoulder, he gently draped his right arm over her back and tried to relax himself. He knew she was small, but curled up against him their size difference was marked. As she shivered against him and whimpered he wished this was something he could fix.

Charon inhaled deeply and caught a whiff of her hair. It smelled like sweat and oil and something uniquely Fiona that made his heart beat faster. Against all reason, he lifted his free hand and gently took a lock of her hair into his fingers. Despite the accumulated dust from the day, the dark strands were soft between his thumb and forefinger. Growing bolder after a few moments, he ran all five fingers through the back of her hair. He froze when Fiona started to wake up, but instead of pulling away she burrowed closer to him and made a contented sound. Taking another chance he repeated the gesture, running his palm along the back of her head and combing her hair with his fingers. She gave another contented sigh of approval in his arms and muttered something that sounded like "feels good." So far this was the only thing he'd been able to do for her in her illness to make her happy. Charon repeated the motion over and over until he fell asleep himself.


	22. Chapter 22: The Unknown

**Author's note**: Sorry it took a while to get this out. I must have tempted fate in writing about Fiona coming down with a virus. I came down with the flu a few days after publishing the last chapter and I was laid up in bed in a similar fashion to my dear Fiona. :( But, I finally got back on my feet and wrote a chapter. The next chapter will pick back up and get into the next round of action.

* * *

Fiona woke slowly to the sound of a strong heartbeat and steady breathing. Charon's right hand was still buried in her hair and the arm she was using as a pillow was now wrapped around her side, hand resting on her waist. She knew her fever had risen again and was becoming increasingly warm, but she fought the impulse to tear herself away to make herself cooler. Fiona carefully lifted her head and pulled back slightly to see Charon's face. She had only seen him this relaxed once, when he was asleep on the bed in their hotel room in Rivet City. His expression was soft and peaceful, his mouth hanging open slightly.

Fiona smiled warmly as she took in Charon's sleeping form. He was massive lying next to her, but they fit together so well. She felt safe and comfortable in his arms and gently tightened her grip on his chest, hugging herself closer to him. Responding to her tightening grip, Charon's own increased in pressure as well. The hand in her hair gripped the back of her head gently and pressed it closely to his chest. The arm around her waist flexed and the hand lazily stroked her hip. Fiona practically melted in his arms, sighing deeply and nuzzling his chest. She had not been held intimately in a very long time. For him, she knew it had probably been far longer. Ignoring her rising internal temperature, Fiona relaxed in Charon's arms and fell asleep again.

* * *

It was mid-morning before Charon stirred. Breathing deeply, he took several moments to simply lie still and relax. He could get used to sleeping in. The worn and faded mattress wasn't fancy but it was a tremendous improvement over the sleeping accommodations he had previously been accustomed to… an old blanket on the floor behind the bar. Having his own bed was heaven. He attempted to move his left arm and felt it weighed down. It was then that he remembered the events of the previous night. Opening his eyes slowly he confirmed that it had not been a dream. He had his left arm wrapped around Fiona and his other hand was tangled in her hair. Her petite body was pressed firmly against his and she looked content. Charon drank in the scene, memorizing every curve and angle of her body. He shifted his hips slightly to avoid Fiona coming into contact with his morning arousal. After all these centuries he was still a man.

She was beautiful. Even with her dirty hair and sweat-stained undershirt, Charon could not help but admire the girl in his arms. While every instinct drove him to do what any normal man would do, Charon took another deep breath and tried to calm himself. Nothing good would come of imagining the impossible. And acting on it would be insane.

Once Charon was as relaxed as he could will himself to be, he began to gently untangle his body from his employer's. She was warmer than him now, which meant her fever was becoming dangerously high. She would need more Med-X and water. But every time a part of him separated from her body, she would move forward and grip tighter in an unconscious effort to keep him close. It was tempting to simply give in and resume their position but Charon had to take care of her. Finally, he succeeded in gently extricating himself and rose to the desk where he had left the medicine and water.

He prepared the thin syringe of Med-X and turned around to see that Fiona was rolled onto her side and was watching him, smiling softly. She attempted to sit up and Charon rushed over to aid her. With one large hand steadying her back, she was able to rise and drink some water while Charon administered her medicine. There was a silent tension now that had not been present before. They both wanted desperately to speak but were at a loss for words.

Despite the feeling of overwhelming heat, Fiona wanted Charon to return to bed. She wanted to feel his strong arms around her and his large hand combing through her hair. Based on the way Charon sat, perched uncertainly on the edge of the mattress while he waited for her to finish drinking her water, she knew it was a likely that he felt the same way. However, the request to rejoin her never made it past Fiona's lips. Instead the two shared an awkward silence for a few moments, locking eyes and hearts beating quickly. Eventually, Charon spoke.

"Do you think you could eat?" he asked.

The thought of food did not sit well with Fiona as waves of nausea rushed through her. She shook her head. "No. I don't think I'd keep it down just yet. Maybe in a few hours once the fever has gone down." Another hot flash gripped her and Fiona kicked off the blankets. She had forgotten that, before cocooning herself the previous night, she had also removed her pants. Now, laying on her back in a thin undershirt and dark cotton panties, she felt much cooler but became aware of her state of undress as Charon immediately averted his eyes.

"You should rest," he said hastily, eyes on the floor. He stood to leave.

Fiona struggled to say something to ease the tension, but words failed her, and Charon was through the doorway. Sighing heavily, she laid back and tried to sleep.

Charon's heart was still beating like a sledgehammer as he made his way downstairs. He wanted to climb back into bed with Fiona so badly. But, she was ill and did not need his body heat anymore. He reminded himself firmly that her chills had been the reason she'd let him hold her last night and hoped desperately that she still felt comfortable with him.

Dogmeat was waiting eagerly at the bottom of the stairs, whining and pacing. Charon was lost in thought and only half paying attention as he fed the mutt a can of potted meat and ate some cereal himself. Charon lost track of how long he'd been staring into space and reliving every moment of last night when the dog's whining became more and more insistent. He paced from the kitchen to the door and back again.

"Oh," Charon said, as realization dawned on him. "You need to go out." He opened the front door and followed the animal onto the walkway. If the creature was already housebroken, he was likely someone's pet before the raiders had gotten hold of him. The dog seemed well-mannered enough and had slept quietly on the living room floor all night. Maybe having a pet wouldn't be a total pain in the ass.

Charon watched the dog sniff around in the dirt near the walls for a good spot to pee. However, it seemed that nothing was up to snuff. Dogmeat made his way back to the walkway and stopped at Jericho's shack. After a few deep inhales near the shack door, the dog huffed in satisfaction and lifted his leg. Charon fought to contain his laughter. Jericho was likely inside the house and would stay asleep for a few more hours at least. It was rare to see the ex-raider up and about until at least noon. Having emptied his bladder, Dogmeat trotted back towards Charon looking very satisfied. The ghoul leaned down and patted the animal on the head. "Good dog," he said softly.

Charon leaned over the railing of the walkway, staring at the town below. Rude whispers and unwelcome stares of various residents aside, he was actually starting to feel more at home here than he had anywhere else in a very long time. There were a handful of people who seemed to tolerate him fairly well and the Sheriff was finally starting to relax regarding his presence. Charon didn't genuinely care if people accepted him or not, he told himself. However, he could make Fiona's life a lot easier if his presence in town was not a hot-button issue.

As Fiona slept soundly throughout the day, Charon felt comfortable enough to leave her alone for short periods… with Wadsworth and Dogmeat in the house with her. After repairing the guns they'd found, he took all the supplies they had scavenged to Moira's and came out with over 1,000 caps. He also ran into Simms again who asked for his advice in regards to some new security measures he was thinking about implementing for the town. Charon was pleasantly surprised that the Sheriff trusted his judgement enough to ask for his opinion. However, Charon never stayed away for more than an hour or so. Duty aside, he actually missed Fiona.

In the late afternoon he went upstairs to check on her again, this time bringing some dry Sugar Bombs for her to eat. Charon entered the room and saw Fiona sound asleep on the bed, laying spread eagle in her underclothes. Forcing himself not to let his gaze linger, though it did for a few moments, Charon sat carefully on the edge of the mattress. The movement did not wake her and he was temped to let her sleep. He lifted a ruined hand to her smooth face and brushed some loose strands of silken black hair from her eyes. With this, she stirred, opening her eyes and smiling up at him. She was still a little warm but the Med-X was doing its job, decreasing her fever.

"Hey," she said lazily.

"Hey," was all he could think of in response. For a moment Charon forgot why he'd even come into the room. Finally, he lifted the box of cereal and offered it to her. "Do you think you could eat?" Fiona nodded and Charon helped her sit up. Fiona took a few handfuls of the stale sugary cereal, washing them down with water. Charon added, "If it stays down, I purchased some groceries. There is Brahmin milk in the fridge if you want it for the cereal."

Fiona smiled gratefully. "Yeah, I'd like to try that." Charon seemed relieved and returned with a bottle of milk and a chipped bowl. Fiona didn't eat much, but kept down what little she'd had. After he cleaned up and took everything back downstairs, the ghoul returned to her bedside. "Thanks for going shopping today, Charon. So, what've else have you been up to while I've been asleep?" Fiona asked, hoping to keep him by her side for as long as possible.

"I took the liberty of selling the scavenged items from yesterday. I put the caps in your locker," he informed her. "Also, Sheriff Simms is planning some new security measures for the town and asked for my input."

"Good," Fiona said. "He needs to listen to you. I'm glad he's recognizing your value." That comment made Charon feel a little warm inside, having someone say that he had value. "And who knows," she continued, "maybe he'll make you a deputy or something. This town needs more than just one guy to keep the peace."

Charon chuckled a little. "I doubt people would like having a ghoul deputy."

"Oh, fuck people. Besides, you'd look really good in a brown duster and cowboy hat, Charon," Fiona said with total sincerity.

Charon smirked. "Ah, so your true wish is to play dress up with your ghoul manservant more than protect the town?" he joked.

Fiona laughed loudly. "You got me. The whole reason I bought your contract from Ahzrukhal was to dress you up in silly outfits. I've just been looking for a way to broach the subject." Charon chuckled softly. "After the Sheriff's uniform I was thinking of putting you in one of those spiky raider outfits and then maybe a doctor's lab coat and you can play… scientist." Fiona barely saved herself from saying "you can play doctor" and Charon couldn't help but catch the near slip, unintentionally raising an eyebrow at his employer. She just giggled, a bit embarrassed. "Yeah, that almost came out _wrong_," she said, then paused at her phrasing. "Well, not that it would be wrong to… I didn't mean in a bad way. I mean, it's not wrong to do… things… but it's wrong because it's not what I meant. Does that make sense?"

"Barely." Charon could hardly contain his crooked smile as Fiona fumbled around awkwardly with her words. He used to find it annoying when she rambled like this but now it was endearing.

She looked up at him happily and Charon felt comfortable enough to move from the edge of the mattress and sit in a relaxed pose at the foot of the bed. They talked for a long time, eventually landing on the topic of one of the articles Fiona had been reading. Apparently it was _really_ fascinating and relevant but Charon didn't understand most of the technical jargon. Instead, he listened attentively and picked up what he could and asked questions about what confused him. After a short education about the nature of behavioral modification, from the very basic to the complex, Charon had to agree with Fiona's previous assessment: he had _been_ brainwashed 200 years ago, and quite thoroughly, but his continued conditioning did not make sense. Charon sat near the foot of the dirty mattress, head low and lost in thought. He tried to not think about the details of his days at the Institute. Brief images would flicker into his mind occasionally but he shut them down as soon as they wormed their way to the surface of his consciousness.

_Alone in a room for days. No sound, no light, and something wrong with the way the gravity. The constant sensation of floating with no way to orient himself. _Enough_. Being "rewarded" for obedience with a meal… the first in days. _Stop_. Waves of pleasure and purpose flooding his brain with every order he carried out, a respite from the torture._

Charon shook himself loose from the memories and returned to the present where Fiona was staring at him intensely. "Are you ok? You seemed to… go somewhere… just now."

Charon simply shook his head. "I am fine. I was trying to make sense of things." He looked at his employer sitting only a few feet away, wearing only underclothes, and looking at him with genuine concern. "I wish I knew how to fix myself, Fiona. But everything I have tried has not worked. I do not know if it can be done."

She scooted herself towards him and took one of his large hands in hers. "Maybe not. But I'm going to try anyway." Her dark eyes bore into him and Charon involuntarily squeezed her hand. He almost jumped when her small hand squeezed back. After a few moments she continued. "So I know you've already said I can't hand the contract over to you. You'd just start looking for someone else to give it to. But could I order you not to give a shit about the contract?"

Charon shook his head solemnly. "No. It supersedes your authority."

"Ok," Fiona thought out loud. "And if I tried to destroy it you'd… have to stop me."

Charon nodded solemnly, their hands still connected. He stared at her face, which was deep in thought, brows crinkling and eyes darting around at things only she could see in her mind. He squeezed her hand lightly again to get her attention. "I appreciate your efforts. But I do not wish to see you unhappy or upset. This research seems to be doing precisely that." Fiona was staring so intently at him, Charon felt suddenly self-conscious. Before she could protest he continued, "I am not asking you to stop trying. I would… very much like to have free will again. But I am not unhappy here."

Looking relieved, Fiona asked, "So you don't secretly resent me?"

"No!" Charon answered, stunned. "Did you think so?" He felt as if a brick had been dropped inside his chest, the way the question hit him in the gut.

"I don't know. I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you felt a tiny bit of resentment towards the person who 'owned you.'" She looked sheepish and cast her glance to the floor, nervously rubbing a patch of exposed muscle on Charon wrist.

Charon felt like the blood was draining out of his body, leaving him numb and cold. He was unable to answer for almost a full minute. When he finally figured out what he wanted to say Charon reached out for Fiona's face with his free hand, lightly gripping her chin. He raised her face to meet his gaze.

"You did not do this to me. My servitude is not your fault." He paused to make sure she understood him. "I am happy."

They stared at each other for several long moments as Fiona's eyes filled with tears. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Just as they thought the silence might last forever, a panting sound interrupted their moment. Glancing at the door, Dogmeat was standing just outside the door frame, head peering around the corner and staring at the both of them. His mismatched eyes and focused gaze gave the impression that he was interested, if confused, by the odd tension in the room.

Finally Fiona spoke. "Hey, buddy. What's up?" Now acknowledged, the dog trotted into the room and jumped onto the bed between the pair. "Awww, you want some attention too?" she asked as the animal planted itself in her lap and began sloppily licking her face. After thoroughly bathing her skin, Dogmeat turned around and jumped in Charon's direction, getting a few good licks on the ghouls face before the man gently pushed him away. Wiggling with excitement as two pairs of hands rubbed and petted him, Dogmeat sat on the stale-smelling mattress with his people and felt content for the first time in months.

At some point Fiona dozed off because she woke much later in the evening, lying on the bed covered in blankets, head propped with pillows and the dog sleeping at the foot of the mattress where Charon had been. She sat up worried for a moment until she heard someone in the kitchen downstairs. _Probably getting himself some dinner,_ she thought as she relaxed. Smiling she replayed his earlier words in her mind. _"I am happy."_ It was all she'd needed to hear.

Shortly thereafter, Fiona heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and her favorite ghoul peeked into the room. Seeing her awake, he entered. "You slept for a while," he said softly. "Nova stopped by about an hour ago. She wanted to make sure you were ok. Apparently Gob was worried, too."

"Aww, that was nice," she said sleepily.

"I assured her you would be fine."

"And I'll bet Moriarty is just sick with concern," she added jokingly.

"Cries himself to sleep, I hear." The ghoul smirked down at Fiona who gave a light giggle. The two gazed at each other for a moment. "It is time for your Med-X," Charon blurted out, rising and preparing the dose. Fiona watched him intently, trying to find her words again. As the mattress groaned under the weight as Charon perched on the edge and administered the injection, Fiona finally got her nerves up.

"I don't necessarily need the warmth right now," Fiona paused, biting her lip and looking at Charon with an intensity he had not seen a woman direct his way since he'd still had a nose, "but if you wanted to… um… that is if you're comfortable with it, I… I really enjoyed last night." _There,_ Fiona thought. _I said it. It's out in the open._

Charon was floored. Either her fever was higher than he'd thought or she actually meant it. For a solid minute Charon stared at her, mouth slightly open, trying to figure out if there were any meaning to that statement other than the obvious. But he could find none.

As the silence continued Fiona grew increasingly nervous. She could feel her face heating up and her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Charon was just staring at her looking confused. Finally she had to break the quiet. "It's ok," she whispered softly, averting her eyes. "Charon, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Fiona rolled onto her side facing the wall, feeling humiliated. Her skin was burning hot with embarrassment… and also fever. She felt the pressure on the edge of the mattress release and heard heavy footsteps leaving the room. Feeling worse than before she had her medicine she mumbled to herself, "I'm so fucking stupid."

Fiona lay on her side for a few minutes wondering how she could apologize to Charon in the morning when she heard the footsteps enter the room again. Too ashamed to turn around and face him, Fiona just stayed still and stared at the wall. But it wasn't long before she felt a weight on the mattress once more and this time a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. With her back to him, Fiona could feel Charon's firm body press against her as one arm moved beneath her head and the other wrapped around her waist. She couldn't see his face but Fiona felt his warm breath on the top of her head.

"I wanted to change clothes," Charon's rough voice scratched out. "I had been wearing those for days and did not want to offend you with their smell."

She glanced over her shoulder and sure enough, Charon was in a merc grunt outfit similar to Gob's only much cleaner. The soft teeshirt and worn cargo pants were probably much easier to sleep in as well compared to the leather armor he'd had on the previous night. "I thought I scared you off," she whispered.

Charon hummed in thought for a moment. "Not scared. Nervous perhaps," he said softly. "It has been a very long time since I provided comfort to anyone. It has not typically been a duty of mine." He paused and continued. "Truthfully, I am glad none of my previous employers asked me to hold them at night. That would have been awkward." Fiona couldn't help but laugh, her body shaking with each chuckle against Charon's iron frame. The sound was beautiful to him. He sighed and continued his line of thought. "When you have recovered from your fever… with this be?" He paused. "Awkward, that is."

Fiona huffed out a small chuckle. "Do you think I'm so delirious with fever that I'm making decisions that I otherwise wouldn't dream of? Hmmm, yes you could be right. Because before I got sick I was massive ghoul-hater, couldn't stand the sight of you and treated you like total shit," she teased, and playfully jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

He laughed softly. "See? You beat me. I am abused."

Fiona relished in the feeling of his deep laughter resonating through her back and into her chest. It made her tremble suddenly with sensation. Charon must have interpreted it as a shiver of cold however, as he sat up to pull a blanket over the both of them, settling back into position behind her. She did her best to push her body as close to his as possible.

They didn't speak any more that night, just lay there listening to each other breathing. Charon didn't dare let his hands wander but Fiona would stroke his arm from time to time. She was safe with him and he would do anything to keep it that way. But a part of Charon still festered with guilt. She would never let him touch her if she knew…


	23. Chapter 23: Backseat Driver

The days went by in a comfortable routine for Fiona and Charon. Waking together and enjoying the awkward silence and tension of the morning was followed by fever and nausea. Then there was Med-X and sleep while Charon busied himself around the house and in town. In the evenings they would sit and talk, then eat and play with Dogmeat. Charon had spent more one on one time with the animal at this point and the dog seemed to be more closely bonded to the ghoul than the girl who originally opted to save him. At night the two would lie down together in whatever position felt comfortable and slowly drift to sleep.

But with each passing day Fiona recovered a bit more. And each night she needed body heat less and less. However, she would find some way to subtly suggest that Charon was welcome to continue their routine. The touch of a hand, a glance or even scooting over and intentionally leaving a spot for him in the bed was all the coaxing Charon needed.

He always came to her fully clothed and never allowed himself to stray beyond the boundaries of platonic comfort. As Fiona continued to touch his hands, he felt comfortable touching hers. If she would leisurely stroke his forearm as they relaxed together, he would take a chance and return the gesture. Each moment of contact was like a drink of fresh water for a man living two centuries in a desert. And each morning he would wake and take a few moments to drink her in.

She always looked happy as she slept close to him. Her features were delicate and symmetrical. Charon would study her sometimes. She had mentioned once that her mother was Caucasian and while she didn't look like it at first glance, he could pick out mixed features as his eyes roamed. Her nose was slightly more angular than a typical Chinese nose and when they spoke he could see some traces of European heritage in her jawline. But mostly, she seemed to have inherited almost all of her father's features.

Despite the restraint, Charon was still a man. He also woke every morning in a state of painful arousal and had to calm himself before Fiona woke. She slept in her underclothes and while they were not overly revealing they were also form fitting. From the smooth curve of her buttocks the perfect dip of her waist, Charon had to demonstrate significant self-control so that his body did not betray him in her presence.

But Charon knew this docile domestic lifestyle was not a long-term plan. They would be heading back to the Jefferson Memorial as soon as she was well enough to travel. From there they would, hopefully, find her father and Fiona could get out from under the cloud that hung over her otherwise positive disposition. But as long as he was with her, Charon knew he could continue to feel this way: peaceful. It had been too long.

* * *

Fiona rose lazily and stretched her hands over her head as she cracked her neck. She was feeling much better and planned to leave in two days for the Jefferson. Charon wanted her to recover further and regain some strength but she wanted to see her father. He'd had ample time to retrieve and study Braun's notes and get back to the Purifier now. She needed answers to that grew in urgency each day, suffocating her.

Charon laid back and popped his shoulder while gazing up at his employer. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. "We'll try a different position tonight. I'm really sore this morning," she said, blushing furiously after she heard the words that came out of her mouth. Gasping, she opened her mouth to begin stumbling over an awkward explanation, but Charon simply sat up and put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her, smirking and shaking his head.

"If I didn't know better, smoothskin, I'd swear you do that on purpose," he teased. Charon rose and cracked his own back.

Fiona just fell back laughing and threw a pillow in the ghoul's direction. "Fine! Go ahead and tease me. I'm _awkward_, Charon. We both know this."

"Yes, your awkwardness is legendary in the wasteland," he teased, dodging a playful swipe. Charon sat down on the mattress to feel Fiona's forehead and was pleasantly surprised that she had no fever. She was eating more during the day and seemed almost recovered. Their continued sleeping arrangements could no longer be disguised as anything other than what it was: two people who needed comfort, contact and affection.

That afternoon, as the wasteland sun shone in tiny dots through the jagged sheet metal walls, Charon was at the workbench making bottlecap mines from some schematics he'd found. Fiona had found something interesting as well. Apparently, as she hastily downloaded the Rivet City history and android files from Pinkerton's terminal, she had also accidentally downloaded Pinkerton's personal logs. It made for interesting reading.

The early entries began before his "exile" and were full of deliciously paranoid delusions and feelings of entitlement. It was difficult to tell how much content was fact and how much was personal fiction, but Pinkerton spent entire pages complaining about Dr. Li. He complained about Fiona's father as well, but it had more to do with his "useless idealism" than any valid disputes over credentials or character flaws. She even read a few of the more colorful entries aloud to Charon.

"Oh my God, Charon listen to this one," she said, clearing her throat and doing her best haughty Pinkerton impression from the sofa. "I fear death. But not for the reasons typical mortals fear it. _No_!" she exclaimed dramatically, punctuated by a fist in the air. "I fear the cold hand of the reaper because once I am gone, this world, this crumbling remnant of a civilization, will have lost one of it's most precious minds. In times like these I wish I had offspring to carry on my legacy. But I have always been far too consumed with furthering my research and breaking ground into new fields to even remotely consider a relationship. Copulation itself," Fiona paused and scrunched her face in a display of disbelief. "Wow, _copulation. _Pinkerton, you big romantic. How _did_ you keep the ladies away?" Charon chuckled. She laughed and continued. "Copulation itself presents a problem with the social norms and unnecessary 'rules' of etiquette required to even interest a female." Fiona read ahead silently for a moment as the entry rambled on about dating 'protocol'. "Damn this guy is a piece of work. He wanted to pay for sex. That's hardly new in the wasteland. BUT he wanted to take the hooker's temperature over the course of the month to gauge when she was ovulating and then intentionally impregnate her. Needless to say, she was not interested. But this entry is years old. His semi-younger days, I guess. Hopefully he gave up on reproduction," she laughed.

"We can hope," Charon said through low gravelly laughter. "Though since he a man, my guess is he was just too proud to admit, even to himself in his private journal-" he paused and chuckled. "His _once_ private journal, that he had a really bad case of blue balls and was lonely."

Fiona paused and stared at her friend. "You're probably right. When did you get so insightful, Charon?"

He turned slightly from his work to look at her. "I told you before. After 200 years, you figure a few things out."

Fiona continued reading Pinkerton's logs throughout the day. While some were priceless gems of narcissism, many were simply daily accounts of his life. Once he moved into his lab in the bow of the old aircraft carrier, those daily events became less and less interesting. But Fiona did stumble upon a few worthwhile reads regardless.

It was after dinner that Fiona was reading an entry from just a few years ago… when her face went white and her eyes shown with a look of terrible recognition. She stared into space for several minutes before Charon noticed her distress.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

Fiona snapped out of her thoughts. "Yeah, I'm ok. I just…" she pursed her lips and seemed to reach a decision. "Charon, I want to leave tomorrow. And I want to stop at Underworld before we go to the Jefferson."

* * *

They knelt in the damp chilly metro tunnel as Fiona caught her breath. An unexpected encounter with a very quiet feral had taken them all by surprise. However, Fiona had demonstrated how much she'd grown in the last few weeks. Deftly dodging the clawed hand, she lifted and fired her plasma rifle, transforming the creature into a glowing green pool. Charon smiled proudly at her quick reflexes and lack of hesitation. However, he could tell she was tired already.

"I do not wish for you to overtire yourself," he insisted once again.

"I know, but I really want to get Underworld before nightfall," Fiona said, looking away.

Charon still did not know why she had suddenly decided to leave a day early and stop at the ghoul city. It made getting to the Jefferson much more complicated. They could bypass the metros entirely and just walk the banks of the Potomac to the memorial if they had no other stops. And Charon knew Fiona _hated_ the metro tunnels. But something she'd read last night made her want to take the detour and she had not chosen to tell him why.

"May I suggest a compromise?" Charon whispered, as they continued on their route. Fiona stopped and looked at him curiously. "You wish to get to Underworld before nightfall. There is plenty of time to do so. I suggest we stop and rest somewhere secure. Then, continue on our way. As long as we do not stop for more than a few hours we will still reach Underworld before dark."

The pair continued navigating the dank metros in silence for a few more moments before Fiona responded softly. "Ok, but where? I know I won't be able to get any rest in these damn tunnels," she said, eyes darting fearfully to every shadow.

Charon feared she would say that. This left only one viable option. "GNR is not far from here," he said. "That DJ said you were free to stop by any time. Hopefully he meant it. A few hours there and we won't be far from Underworld anyway." He watched his employer as she shakily climbed over some fallen concrete rubble.

Fiona thought for a few moments, then relented. "Ok, you're right. We left before sunrise and it's not even noon yet. So, we can stop for a rest above ground. But only because Dogmeat is tired. He's still not at a healthy weight yet and I know he's worn out."

Charon smirked at the dog who seemed to perk up when Fiona said his name.

Reaching Chevy Chase, Charon carefully examined the area and scouted for Talon Company mercs before he let Fiona even leave the tunnel entrance. Their first encounter with the infamous mercenaries here was still fresh in his mind and he would take no chances with her safety. Fiona took the opportunity to sit down. She hated to admit it, but Charon was right. She had lost a lot of strength.

With the area clear, they continued to the familiar sight of GNR plaza and were greeted by the Brotherhood of Steel. The Initiates and Knights were a bit jumpy and Fiona made it a point to walk in front of Charon to discourage any itchy trigger fingers. But they left the pair alone as they approached the doors to GNR and were buzzed inside. The soldiers inside were curious more than anything as the trio wove their way around the sandbag barriers and supply crates. Fiona could see a few soldiers look up from their work and stare in recognition as the pair ascended the stairs.

They entered the upstairs living area to find Three Dog busily writing at the kitchen area table. He lifted his gaze as their footsteps approached and smiled wide. "Kid!" he exclaimed. "Back already!" He rose and crossed the room, opening his arms wide for a hug and this time Fiona accepted. "How'd everything go? Did you find your dad?"

Fiona's face fell. "Not yet. But we know where he went and where's he's going so…soon." Dogmeat whined at her feet. "Found a dog, though." She sighed in exhaustion. "Three Dog, is your open-door offer still open? Because I really need to rest."

The DJ nodded. "Of course! Just make yourself comfortable anywhere. I've been wondering if you were alright. I'd gotten some news about you but not a lot."

Fiona dropped herself onto the sofa in the living area and leaned her head against the crumbling plaster wall. It felt good to sit down and rest her aching muscles. She felt someone sitting on the sofa with her and opened her eyes to see Charon sitting a respectful distance away. She found herself wishing he was closer. Three Dog followed them in. "Ya' know there is a mattress you could sleep on."

"I know," she said, "but I'm afraid if I do that I won't wake up for hours. I just want to relax for a while and take a short nap. Then we'll be out of your hair."

"Fair enough," said the DJ as he sat across from them in a chair. "Mind catchin' up ole Three Dog on your adventures? People are dying to hear about the vault girl and I've got dead air to fill."

Fiona couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously? Please don't go blabbing too much, ok? I've got Talon assholes after me."

From there the two verbose individuals barely stopped talking long enough to take a breath. Fiona told him about the price on her head and Three Dog promised not to reveal where she was headed until long after she'd left an area, which Fiona appreciated. She told him about the Arlington Library, RobCo, and even the raiders in the caverns although she got very quiet about some parts of her abduction tale. Three Dog didn't need to ask to know what she was avoiding talking about and did not press the issue.

She chose not to tell him about the android adventure or Harkness since the man's identity was still supposed to be a secret. It wasn't that she didn't trust Three Dog but… the man had a big mouth. However, she did not hold back on vocalizing her respect for Charon. She told the DJ exactly how instrumental the ghoul had been in her survival and all he'd taught her. Charon had been fairly quiet throughout the conversation, only contributing occasional comments, but grew absolutely silent during her compliments. He had no idea how to accept one.

After an hour of chatting relentlessly, Fiona's eyes grew heavy and she leaned her head on Charon's leather-clad shoulder. Three Dog smirked and rose from his seat. He quietly announced that he had more Herbert "Daring" Dashwood episodes to write, leaving the pair on the sofa to rest. Charon's heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. He had certainly not expected Fiona to be willing to touch him in front of other people. Granted, the DJ was a very tolerant person but the gesture made his body stiffen in surprise. Fiona simply snuggled closer and let her eyes drift shut. Charon slowly relaxed as she fell into a light slumber and sagged against his body. He slowly lifted and moved her petite form to a more comfortable position with her head in his lap and gently stoked her dark hair out of habit.

He sighed heavily, staring down at her face. She was so… innocent. And yet she was quickly adapting to the roughness of the wasteland. From the way her eyes now automatically scanned a room to how she handled her weapons with the comfort and ease of a professional, Charon knew he had taught her a lot. He hoped it would serve her well in the years to come. With that thought he smiled to himself. _In the years to come_. _I'm actually looking forward to the future. Who'd have thought?_

Fiona slept for a little over an hour and woke to the smell of warm leather and musk and a hand in her hair. She looked up at Charon, smiling, and slowly removed herself from his lap. "Thanks," she whispered, leaning into his hand for a moment before pulling away.

"Do you think you are rested enough?" he asked softly. Fiona nodded and pulled him along with her, the dog at his bade the DJ goodbye and thanks.

As Three Dog stared at the paper he'd been jotting on he suddenly marked a giant X through the script, turned the sheet over and began writing anew with a huge grin on his face.

* * *

"Turtle girl!" Willow exclaimed as they made their way up the metro steps to the Mall in front of the old museum. It seemed like forever since she'd been here. The crumbling remains of the Washington Monument looming ahead of them reminded her of just how much she'd been through in the last few weeks. Turning to greet the ghoulette, Fiona flashed her a smile.

"Hi, Willow!" she called out, Charon and Dogmeat at her heels. Willow stood, leaning against the concrete riser and smoking a cigarette. "How've things been?"

Willow shrugged her shoulders apathetically. "Same shit, different day. Not much new here," she said. Taking a deep drag and looking over at the towering monument she added, "Although, those assholes have stopped shooting at me."

"Really?" Fiona asked excitedly.

"Yeah, they had some sort of personnel change last week and there haven't been any 'shoot the ghoul' matches since then." She exhaled slowly, smoke drifting and dispersing in the muggy wasteland air. "Any ideas on that?" she asked, reaching down to let Dogmeat sniff her hands as the animal timidly peered out from behind Charon's legs.

Fiona shrugged. "I'm not sure. I mean, I did complain to one of the higher-ups I ran into at GNR about that douchebag commander." She paused, remembering her less than pleasant encounter with Paladin Eames. "At any rate, I'm glad you're doing less bullet dodging now."

"Yeah, no kidding." Willow flicked the butt to the ground and stamped it out. "You staying the night or just passing through to resupply?"

Fiona sighed. "Staying the night probably. I mean, if we're welcome." She bit her lip nervously. "Are people still pissed over the whole… headless Ahzrukhal thing?" She heard Charon give a satisfied huff behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to smile at him.

Willow gave a short chuckle. "Well, that depends. Pissed over Ahzrukhal being dead? No. I don't think anyone mourned for that bastard. But," Willow paused and thought for a moment, "there were a few people who got it in their heads you ordered Charon to off Ahzrukhal so you'd get your money back. They didn't care that _he_ was dead specifically but the idea of a smoothskin killing a ghoul in Underworld was… controversial." Fiona opened her mouth to protest but Willow cut her off. "I set people straight as much as I could. _I_ know Charon didn't need any orders to pull that stunt," she smirked at the large ghoul. "But you might get some nasty glares in there. I doubt anyone will mess with you seeing as how you've got Charon at your back. He's the only reason Ahzrukhal lasted as long as he did. Still, probably be prepared for some stink eye."

"Damn it," Fiona cursed, her face twisted in worry. "I don't want people to hate me. Fuck!" She glanced at the door to the Museum of History nervously now.

"No one's gonna try anything, turtle girl." Willow reassured her.

"Yeah but I actually like Underworld and now I'm not welcome. Shit." She held her head in one hand as if she were having a headache. Fiona felt a large hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Charon's face wrought with worry.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I wasn't thinking when I… I did not intend to make your life difficult." Charon's stomach had dropped and his head felt light with apprehension. Without meaning to, he'd fucked up from the very moment they'd met. Granted, he never expected a smoothskin to want to come back to Underworld, much less care about what the ghouls thought of her. Still, he felt guilty for his selfish decision.

Fiona reached up and touched the hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "It's ok," she said quietly. "I don't blame you for one second for doing what you did. We'll deal with it." She turned back to Willow. "Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem," the ghoulette responded, her body language as casual and care-free as ever. "Just stay out of trouble you two," she laughed and gave a lazy wave and they disappeared inside.

Charon exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he was holding as they entered the dim light of the museum. Just ahead and through the lobby was the entrance to Underworld and it filled him with more apprehension than he wanted to admit. Charon's pace slowed noticeably as he stared at the giant decorative skull looming over the double doors as if he hoped to intimidate the object into submission. He felt Fiona stop in front of him and he peered down into her dark eyes.

"So…" she began, "about the reason I wanted to come here." She sighed deeply and looked up at her friend. "It's about something I read in Pinkerton's logs. It's might be nothing but…" she stared down at the floor as she thought. "But it made me want to have you checked out by Dr. Barrows."

Charon startled. "You believe I am ill?"

"Well, not exactly. I… like I said the chances of this being the same thing are slim… and…"

Charon stepped forward, placing both of his large hands on her shoulders. "Fiona," he said firmly. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. If it is not relevant to me then it does not matter. If it is… I should know." He paused "And preferably _before_ I walk back into one of the last places I ever wanted to return."

Fiona sighed and leaned forward, her head resting on Charon's chest. His hands moved from her shoulders down her back as they rested against each other. "You're right," she said. "Come on, let's sit down."

_Entry 247: _

_04-09-2072_

_I will be doubling my security measures around my laboratory now. For years I have been undisturbed in the bow of this rotten tub and left to work in peace. Today that peace was rudely broken. A man who called himself a scientist, but who looked more like wasteland trash, managed to swim underneath the bow and made his way through several of my traps. I _knew_ I should not have cleared out the latest brood of mirelurks. I will let them reproduce at will from now on. _

_I do not know who told him where to find me or if he simply "guessed" my whereabouts as he claims, but I am thoroughly displeased. As if the disturbance of my work were not enough, this wastelander had the audacity to compare his scientific research to mine! Laughable! And I did laugh, too. He did not appreciate that and may very well have shot me had I not been armed myself and he in need of my assistance. _

_This "do-it-yourself" wasteland scientist has stumbled upon some rather interesting pre-war technology. Granted this technology is not completely unfamiliar to me and the models he unearthed are all rather basic. Some of them appear to be original prototypes! However, he was at least intelligent enough to know what they are and how to use them. But he did need my assistance to decipher some of the more complex functions of the microchips. _

_He appears to have some adequate surgical training and has been able to successfully implant the devices into living brain tissues. But he has been unable to access the higher-level functions of the neurological control mechanisms. _

_To date, he claims to have successfully implanted three feral ghoul creatures with the chips and has gained control of their motor functions but little else. One likely explanation for this is that these creatures already have significant neurological degradation and may be incapable of higher-level functions altogether. Also, the "laboratory" he has set up in that old toy factory is likely operating with sub-standard equipment. Still, we were able to reproduce some successful simulations of what the chips could do inside a healthy brain. Remarkable potential! Theoretically this technology could aid and reinforce conditioned behaviors as well as permanently alter many structures of the brain responsible for the forming of belief systems. _

_The "surgeon" assures me he has no plans to go around abducting wastelanders or even sentient ghouls… not for any moral or ethical concerns but more for fear of reprisals should he be caught. No one will miss a feral ghoul or care about experiments performed on them. They would likely not care about a sentient ghoul either, but the creatures are still intelligent enough to escape and tell others… so for now he has decided the risks are not worth the potential rewards. _

_I did suggest that if he wanted to experiment on creatures with higher level brain functions he could try obtaining some super mutants. While they are far from intelligent, they have more "thinking" ability than those feral creatures. He could at least test some of the functions that we believe to be responsible for altering areas of the brain responsible for forming beliefs and interpretations of reality. Now _that_ would be exciting! _

_Still, I am uncertain as the likelihood of success of such an endeavor. Simulations are all well and good but this technology was developed before the great war and will certainly have been damaged over time. In delicate technology such as these microchips even small errors can render the unit useless. I am also unsure as to what the success rate of implantation on subjects was like before the war. From the dates on the chips it seems the technology was only approved for experimental trials shortly before the bombs dropped, so it is unlikely that there would have been time for successful clinical trials in any human subjects. Pity. _

Charon sat, mouth agape, and re-read the entry several times. The implications were unsettling. He'd certainly never been put under the knife before the war. And after the bombs dropped he'd ended up at the Institute. He didn't remember any brain surgery while he was there but… Charon's chest grew tight with a realization. There were chunks of time he didn't remember from his "training." Days, sometimes weeks, would go by and he would awake with no memory of what had happened. He knew he was drugged from time to time and had always assumed that was responsible for the memory loss. He also never tried very hard to unearth those lost memories. Something always told him he'd just be better off not knowing. Perhaps now he knew why.

"Charon?" Fiona's voice broke him from his thoughts. "Are you ok?"

He said nothing, just lifted his gaze from her Pip Boy and stared straight ahead at the empty lobby. Finally he spoke. "I do not know. This is unexpected. I don't remember any surgery but… they kept me pretty fucked up."

"Like I said," Fiona spoke softly as she reached out for his hand, "It might not mean anything. But if it does, if this is something that they did to you then maybe… maybe there's hope."

Charon felt dizzy. "And you wanted to bring me to Dr. Barrows to find out."

"If…" Fiona was sweating with nervousness now. "Charon if you don't want to, if you just want to turn around and not even look, then I'll respect that and-"

"No." Charon stood confidently. "If there's some fucking Institute shit in my head, I want it out. Turned off. Whatever. And if it's nothing then I'm the same damaged carcass I was this morning, no better but no worse."

"Charon," Fiona stood up with him, "I should have told you yesterday. I just didn't know what to think or how to say it or if you'd hate me."

His face softened momentarily. "It'd take a lot to make me hate you, smoothskin," he said, opening the doors into the Underworld.

As Fiona and Charon entered the concourse, the cacophony of muttering voices and casual conversation trickled to a halt, leaving only the split second of muffled echoes from the marbled floors. There was no fooling themselves as they walked straight down the hall towards the Chop Shop. All eyes were on them. Even Dogmeat seemed uncomfortable, eying each ghoul carefully and baring his teeth at a few of the more aggressive looking residents. But no one openly confronted either of them. Still, Fiona felt every set of eyes on the back of her neck as she passed by and she hunched her shoulders forward self-consciously. As they approached the doors to the clinic she heard Charon grumbling angrily under his breath.

"You're sure you want to go in?" she asked again. "You sound… mad."

"I am not angry with you," he reassured her softly. Turning, he glared at the few residents who were gusty enough to still be making eye contact with him and stood protectively behind Fiona as she led him inside.

"Doctor Barrows?" she called out into the dimly lit clinic. A figure at the terminal in the corner sat up and turned around. Instead of the doctor there was a female ghoul seated there.

She stood and warily crossed the room, eying the two of them suspiciously. "The doctor is in the observation room with Meat and Ethyl. He'll be back in just a few minutes. Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked with total professionalism.

Fiona stepped forward and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Fiona. And… I'm guessing you already know Charon? I was here a few weeks ago but I don't think we met."

The ghoulette accepted Fiona's hand and shook lightly. "Yes, I believe that was my day off. Seems all the interesting stuff happens while I'm away," she said, looking Charon up and down as if inspecting him for wounds. "I'm Nurse Graves."

"Nice to meet you," Fiona said, making sure her tone stayed friendly. "Anyway, um, the reason we're here is because Charon needs to be seen by the doctor." Fiona wasn't sure how to broach the subject of mind-control microchips without sounding crazy and wasn't even sure she wanted to tell the details to this nurse she was just meeting for the first time, so she kept it simple.

"Ok," said Graves. "I can get you started while you're waiting. The reason for this visit?"

Before Fiona had a chance to try and find a way to not make the reason for their visit sound less weird, Charon spoke up. "Neurological problems."

Nurse Graves practically jumped backwards upon hearing the massive ghoul speak for the first time in her presence in half a century. Fiona couldn't suppress a snicker. "Um," the nurse tried to recover her composure. "Ok then, definitely something for the doctor to take a look at. What are your symptoms?"

Without missing a beat Charon said "Headaches and periodic loss of motor control. Also compulsive behaviors."

Before Nurse Graves could pick her jaw off the floor, figuratively speaking, Dr. Barrows entered the clinic from the observation room, wiping something off his hands onto an old rag. Upon seeing the pair he exclaimed "Vault girl! You're back! What brings you here?"

Two hours and a few medical procedures later, the four of them sat in front of a scan of Charon's brain.


	24. Chapter 24: Co-Pilot

**Author's Note:** Smut ahead and will appear on and off from here on out. If you don't like it, you have been warned. And in that case… why are you reading a fanfic that's rated M anyway? :-P

* * *

Her eyes were glassy with unfallen tears as the image on the wall gave a disturbingly clear picture. A hand over her mouth in shock, Fiona was the first one to speak. "What the _fuck_ am I looking at?"

The doctor and nurse were silent while they tried to figure that out themselves. Charon's face had gone as blank as it had been in his days with Ahzrukhal.

He had entered the clinic not sure what to expect. However, Charon had at least been prepared for the possibility of some device in his head. He had imagined seeing a tiny rectangular chip on his scans, lodged somewhere in his skull, giving out little electrical signals… a clear target, easily spotted and removed. But the image on the wall showed something else entirely. There was more than one tiny angular chip. Spreading out the images, taken from all different angles, they could count half a dozen. But the number of chips was not the disturbing part.

What they saw resembled a brain tangled within a brain. Each dot, a processor they could assume, seemed to have a network of nanotubes extended out and into the grey matter. This was not something that could have been implanted easily. The chips were placed in strategic areas of the brain and from there it looked as if the network of tubes… grew. Woven and tangled, they resembled an artificial network of neurons.

Dr. Barrows finally spoke up. "Whoa." He scratched his chin and stood closer for a better look at the images. "This stuff was all _strictly_ theoretical before the war. No one thought it'd be real for another few decades at best. Then everything went to hell and… that was that." The doctor examined the images closely. "To be honest, I barely understand the specifics of what I'm looking at. This is uh…" Barrows rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Guys, this is way the fuck over my head. Surgically, I don't think it can come out. Not without killing, Charon." Barrows turned around and gave Charon an apologetic look. "I guess I shouldn't be shocked that Ahzrukhal lied to everybody about your history. So, this has been in there since right after the bombs dropped?"

Charon shrugged his shoulders. "I am not sure exactly. I do not even remember the surgery to put that in." He felt Fiona reach out and take his hand. "After the bombs started coming we were on a mission to escort a bunch of scientists to the Institute. Well, back then it was the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Back when there _was_ a Massachusetts." He felt Fiona squeeze his hand and he relaxed a bit. "Supposedly they were some of the best minds humanity had to offer. We almost died doing it but we got them there safely. Then once we were inside… it was no longer safe to go back out. I figured I'd have to spend a few years locked up with the eggheads, working guard duty or some shit. But with all the Protectrons and automated security we were not really and… I guess soldiers started to look like lab rats after a while."

Fiona's tears were now falling and Nurse Graves wasn't looking much better. The four of them were absolutely silent for several minutes, all processing this new information.

"So," Nurse Graves began, "how did they get all of that in there?"

Dr. Barrows sighed heavily. "Well, if I had to guess I'd say these," he pointed to the darker dots on the image, "were what they put in with the nanotubes compressed. They weigh next to nothing and take up about as much space. Then they 'grew' out as the processor began to recognize and 'learn' how the brain was working. I mean, not all on its own. There'd have to have been a whole _team_ of scientists to do this." He paused. "Charon, you said the training took months right? Maybe longer?"

Charon nodded. "Possibly over a year. As I said, there are pieces of time missing."

Barrows stood back, thinking, running his tongue over ruined teeth. "Originally, something like this would have been used to help people with brain damage. The artificial neurons could grow into dead and damaged areas and help a patient regain some basic function of whatever it was they lost. But Charon doesn't have any brain damage. So this network is more like a…" he fought for a good word to use. "Like a co-pilot, sort of. Except in this case maybe it's taken over entirely."

"The headaches," Charon whispered to himself. "I get splitting headaches when I try to disobey an order. And then my body locks down. I can't move and then if I keep fighting it it'll end up moving on it's own. Like something else is driving me."

Fiona, still staring dazed at the images, spoke. "Brainstorming out loud here. So all that brainwashing at the Institute had two purposes. The obvious mind-fucking part and then to help the artificial network grow into the right areas to help keep you mind-fucked." Fiona began pacing, her eyebrows scrunched and expression hard. It was her thinking face. "In order to recognize 'disobedience' he'd have to disobey," she said to Barrows. "So they set up situations early on where he would. To reward obedience they could use these devices to flood his brain with endorphins. It would literally make obedience addictive. And over time the processors would 'learn' what he was thinking… at least in a very broad sense. Like it could recognize when he was disobeying because it knows what those patterns 'look like' in a way. Then it kicks in and starts… operating as a fail safe?" Pausing she looked back to the images. "Does that mean any fucking sense?"

"Yes, actually." Barrows stepped back and rubbed his eyes. "This is all just… fucking crazy. This is stuff people were only _thinking_ about developing as far as I knew. I had no idea those Institute pricks already had the tech finished."

Charon spoke up again, voice cold and empty. "And then after the bombs, their military research contracts meant squat. There were no oversight boards or ethics committees. No clinical trials to be had. Just a bunch of geniuses. Trapped in a bubble. With nothing to do but play with their toys." He stared straight ahead. "I'm gonna smoke." Charon rose from the exam table he'd been sitting on and left the clinic without looking back, the dog at his heels. Fiona got up to run after him but was stopped by Barrows.

"Are you two gonna be here for a while?" he asked.

"Just tonight. We're leaving tomorrow," she said distractedly.

"Ok, I'll let you know if I figure anything out. I'm gonna keep trying," Barrows said with very little confidence. "But kid," he called as she opened the door onto the Underworld concourse, "Thanks for taking care of him."

She hurried out into the main corridor and saw Charon in the back corner near the maintenance office, hiding in the shadows and lighting a cigarette, his eyes on the ground. She could tell Charon was somewhere else right now. Another time. Another place.

She approached him slowly. "Hey," Fiona whispered. He looked up at her, then his gaze returned to the floor. "I'd ask if you were ok, but I'm pretty sure the answer is no."

The ghoul sighed heavily, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. "When I woke up this morning," he began, "I did not know what to expect from today. But I sure as hell never expected… that." He glanced back towards the clinic door.

"I know," Fiona said. "And I still don't know if there's anything that can be done about it but…" She reached out and took Charon's free hand. "We'll find this 'surgeon' guy or we'll talk to Pinkerton. The journal entry was only five years old so chances are the guy experimenting on ferals is still around somewhere. We'll search every toy factory on the east coast if we have to until we find his lab. I swear to you if there's some way to fix this, we'll find it."

Charon reached out a hand to wipe away a tear Fiona didn't even realize was rolling down her face. "I believe you," he said quietly, his hand still on her face, a rough thumb stroking her damp cheek.

Fiona leaned into his hand gently and closed her eyes. Exhaling a long sigh she whispered, "Charon, these last few days… I want you to know-"

"Slaver bitch." A voice cut through the quiet concourse like a combat knife, just loud enough for the other residents to hear.

Fiona felt her heart harden and her blood turn cold. Her stomach felt like it was rising in her chest, as if experiencing the sensation of falling. She slowly turned around to see a ghoul leaning casually against a far wall across from the Inferno sculpture. She had seen the Underworld resident before but had never gotten his name.

Charon began to move forward but Fiona put a hand on his arm. She whispered, "It's ok." She approached the ghoul casually, as if greeting a friendly stranger. "I'm sorry," she said with an artificial sweetness to rival 200 year old snack cakes, "I don't think I heard you correctly. It _sounded_ like you called me a 'slaver bitch.' But I know I had to have misheard you because only the second is true." She innocently cocked her head, sweetly daring the ghoul to make that claim again.

Clearly enunciating each word and speaking loudly enough for the other residents scattered around to hear, he repeated himself. "I said that you are a Slaver. Bitch."

The air was growing thick with tension and despite his calm demeanor, Charon was assessing every resident in the crowd for weapons, positions and physical threat. Even the resident Mr. Gutsy robot, Cerberus, was floating nearby watching the situation. He would slaughter every last one of them if they made a move to mob Fiona.

Fiona's jaw was tight and her fists quaking. But she kept her façade of innocence. "How so?"

The ghoul scoffed and took a threatening step forward, causing Charon and Dogmeat to do the same. He eyed the massive ghoul stepping up behind the girl and wisely chose to back down from any physical confrontations. "You've got some fucking nerve coming back here, smoothskin." His remark was met with mumbles of affirmation from a few of the gathering ghouls. "You waltzed in all cute and innocent, won a few suckers over with your 'alone in the wasteland' story and then you rush out of here the next day leaving a dead ghoul behind and taking a trophy slave with you," he motioned his head towards Charon.

Before anyone could register the movement, a loud cracking sound echoed through the open halls. The nameless ghoul cradled his jaw and Fiona rubbed her sore palm. The air went still and silent as she took a single step forward and spat out words through gritted teeth. "Call him a slave One. More. Time." Fiona's eyes were wide and furious as she stared down the uncertain eyes of her opponent.

The confusion and shock of being slapped by a petite teenager wore off after a few moments, however. The ghoul stepped forward and raised his hand to return the gesture when his wrist was caught mid-air. Charon lifted and held the man several inches off the ground. Dangling the smaller ghoul he stepped to Fiona's side and rested his free hand on her shoulder. Charon met the eyes of each ghoul in the small crowd, daring them to try something. But the stranger dangling off the ground wasn't finished with his death wish.

"You see?!" he called out. "She's got control of the one-man war machine now and we're all screwed." He kicked futilely in the air trying to free himself. After a few moments of watching the man squirm, Charon threw him into the crowd, ghouls rushing off to the side to avoid impact. He landed with a sharp thud on the old tile floor, coughing and trying to catch his breath.

Charon took a single step forward, sweeping the group with his gaze. It didn't look like anyone was going to try something stupid. "Fuck you people," Charon said, his voice soft and sad. He glanced to the second floor at the double doors of what used to be the Ninth Circle. "Fifty years," he said, pointing up. "I stood in the same corner for fifty years, unable to speak or even move without that monster's permission." Charon's voice was tired as Fiona stood next to him, her hand stroking his lower back. "Funny how you all get concerned and morally outraged _now_… when I need it the least."

No one in the small crowd would make eye contact with the larger ghoul and several were slowly backing up and walking away. Their shame was palpable. The angry ghoul on the floor stumbled got to his feet and glared at Fiona, but wisely shuffled away into the common room rather than continue his confrontation. Cerberus seemed to deflate and drifted away mumbling "Damn zombies. Hoped they were finally going to kill each other…" At last, the pair and their dog were left relatively alone except for a few random citizens wandering around the concourse. Fiona released a breath she'd been holding and looked up to Charon.

Smiling, she whispered, "You tell 'em!"

Charon chuckled self-consciously. Changing the subject, he added "Sorry I ran out of the clinic so fast. It was overwhelming."

"It's no problem." Fiona moved a hand to Charon's chest. "Barrows said he's gonna keep going over the scans and let us know if he thinks of anything. But otherwise, we may have to figure something out on our own."

A gravely cough interrupted their moment and Fiona looked behind Charon to see a ghoul in an old RobCo jumpsuit standing nervously behind him. He was twisting a rag that was dirty with dark grease in his hands. "So uh, normally I welcome all the new people to Underworld," he said. "But the first time you came in here you were unconscious and I was up in the vents earlier when you came back. Since I finally caught up to you, I'm Winthrop. Welcome to Underworld. In addition to being a really lousy greeter, I also do maintenance and keep this place from falling apart. Anyway, most of us aren't assholes, except for Jay who you just met. You probably figured out that people in this place get a little defensive around smoothskins."

Fiona relaxed a bit and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you Winthrop. I'm Fiona and I normally don't slap people…"

"Eh, don't worry about it. It's just good to see that Charon can actually speak. All those years with Ahzrukhal I think people thought he was half feral." Winthrop shrugged.

Charon grumbled under his breath. "No, they just didn't give a shit."

Winthrop sighed. "Actually some of us did, Charon." The older ghoul seemed unafraid of the "one man war machine" now that his employer was not a sociopath. "But we knew if anyone pissed off Ahzrukhal over the issue he'd have you silence them and no one was crazy about the irony of being killed by the person we wanted to help free. It's not an excuse for letting it go on that long, but it's the shitty truth." Charon was stunned into silence. "Anyway," Winthrop continued, "I figure if the smoothskin was really an evil bitch, she'd have had you slaughter everyone for the hell of it." Turning to Fiona he added, "So judging by the lack of ghoul parts scattered around, I'm guessing you're more diplomatic than Ahzrukhal."

"Um, thanks?" Fiona shrugged. "Anyway, I really feel like shit knowing that people seem to hate me around here."

Winthrop shrugged. "Not everyone. Hell not even that many. Mostly people just get… concerned… if they feel like a smoothskin is looking down on 'em." He judged her carefully for a moment. "I don't get that sense from you, though."

"Thanks," she said. "And if there's anything I can do help out-"

Winthrop answered, "Actually, I always need scrap metal. If you bring me some I can trade you in stims and radiation cures. We have a stockpile of them but don't need any."

Smiling, Fiona dropped her pack and dug around for the scrap. After fishing out enough for trade, Winthrop handed her a Stimpak.

Dogmeat interrupted her thoughts by whining and nudging her legs. "Ok, ok. I get it. You're hungry," she said to the animal. "It was nice meeting you, Winthrop. We're staying at Carol's Place tonight and leaving in the morning but hopefully I'll see you around." Looking down at the animal giving her puppy eyes she relented. "Let's go get a room and have something to eat." She led the way upstairs towards Carol's, turning to Charon "And something to drink. I have a feeling you want to get tipsy."

The ghoul huffed. "More than tipsy, smoothskin. I am not a cheap date."

* * *

The small table erupted in laughter. Empty plates and shot glasses littered the surface as the four people continued telling stories. Carol's Place wasn't much, just a small dining area and a few beds, but it was one of Fiona's favorite places in the wasteland. Despite the ruckus outside, she had been greeted with Carol's usual hospitality and barely got any reaction from the handful of other patrons milling around. Apparently not everyone in Underworld believed the rumors about Fiona's murderous and slaving ways, and Carol had been one of them. Tulip came upstairs for some food about halfway through dinner and shyly joined them at the table, warming up once Fiona offered to let her share in one of the bottles of vodka she'd bought. And periodically random ghouls would come through to loiter. It was pretty obvious that she and Charon were going to be something of a side show tonight, but Fiona didn't mind. Now the four of them were full and quickly becoming drunk.

"And so Charon says 'I'm the tall one' and Gob said Moriarty was _speechless_," Fiona said through laughter.

Carol loved hearing carefully edited stories about her adopted son. They were still omitting the part about his slavery and described Moriarty as his cranky old 'boss' and told Carol that Nova was a waitress. With the amount of alcohol in her system Fiona had to be very careful not to slip up, but Charon helped her keep the story straight.

"I hope his boss isn't too hard on him," Carol fretted. "Gob was always easily intimidated."

"Moriarty is mean to everyone," Charon responded. "So at least Gob isn't being left out."

_Good call,_ Fiona thought casting a wink in Charon's direction. She'd had more to drink than planned. She was keeping pace with the ghouls at first until Charon suggested she slow down. He reminded her that ghouls had a tolerance for chems, including alcohol, that was far higher than hers. So for the moment she was abstaining while the ghouls caught up to her.

"Well I'm glad he found a steady job in a safe settlement. There are so few places to live out there with any real security," Carol said.

"Speaking of which," Fiona piped up. "Charon did some security consulting for the Sheriff to beef up defenses. He got paid pretty well for it and Simms is going to use almost all of Charon's suggestions. And when it's finished the town will have a second sniper perch and Charon might get job out of it." Fiona rubbed Charon's back proudly since she could tell from his stiff body language that the compliments made him uncomfortable.

He grumbled low and a bit embarrassed. "Eh, I dunno about all that…"

"Why not?" she asked. "You're a great shot and he's gonna need people to put up there." She paused mischievously. "Not to mention the fact that he's going to need deputies as the town grows…"

Charon chuckled, another shot of vodka beginning to relax him. "You're still pushing for that? You just want to see me in a duster and cowboy hat."

"Yes I do," Fiona slurred. "Now drink up! I'm still the drunkest one here and you said you weren't gonna be a cheap date. So prove it, mister!"

Carol and Tulip laughed drunkenly and the few other patrons loitering around looked amused and very surprised to see Charon having a conversation and joking. It was certainly not the way they were used to seeing him. He did seem happy though. By the end of the evening, half of Underworld had found some excuse to wander through Carol's and bother Greta for a snack. However, Charon followed Fiona's lead and pretended not to notice the unusual influx of patrons.

By the time Charon was drunk enough to satisfy Fiona's teasing it was getting late. Dogmeat had been asleep underneath the table for a few hours already. Tulip rose and said goodnight and Fiona promised to visit her in the morning.

Fiona stood woozily and Charon reached out to steady her with a hand around her waist. Leaning into him she asked Carol for a room. "The room I had last time, is it open?"

A tipsy Carol handed over the key to the locked "room." It was actually little more than a queen bed surrounded by a cobbled together divider consisting of old medical screens and a bathroom stall door. But it was as much privacy as one could get in Underworld. Charon dropped their packs in the corner of the stall/room, hesitated and then unfurled his bedroll against the wall.

Fiona realized how drunk she was. The room would spin slightly every time she closed her eyes and she knew if she'd had a few more shots that Charon would have been holding her hair back while she puked in a trash can. But despite her condition, or perhaps because of it, she could not ignore the heat pooling low in her abdomen. As she stripped off her jacket and boots she watched Charon doing the same. He'd replaced his tattered black undershirt with a newer one and Fiona bit her lower lip as she watched how the sleeves hugged his biceps and the fabric stretched taught across his back and wide shoulders. It was snug but not tight around his waist, allowing just a hint of the outline of his abdominals to be seen. Without realizing it, Fiona let loose a breathy sigh that got Charon's attention. He turned to see her sitting on the edge of the large bed, staring at him heatedly. Their eyes met, flashing desire and uncertainty. Fiona was the first to break their silence.

"You don't have to sleep down there," she took care to whisper softly. Even though most people were gone or in bed, she was sure there were still a few loiterers about. Charon didn't respond immediately so Fiona stood, slowly unbuttoning her leather pants and pushing them down over her hips. The tight fit caused her black underwear drag with the pants towards the floor, but she hooked a thumb in the waistband and kept them in place. Now clad in the nightwear he was accustomed to seeing, Fiona crawled onto the bed and sat at the headboard, looking at him expectantly.

Stepping forward but never letting his gaze stray from Fiona's, Charon sat on the edge of the mattress. "I was unsure if I would be… permitted… in a place this public," he whispered, the low roughness of his voice sending shivers down her spine and igniting something lower with a sharp jolt.

"You don't need to ask permission," she responded as she crawled over to him on all fours.

Charon took a deep breath to steel himself against the onslaught of images bombarding his mind. _Fiona on her knees and naked in front of the bed, slowly unbuttoning his pants. She stares up at him with wide eyes that express both awe and a hint of fear as she releases his member from the confines of the leather armor. Her chest heaves in anticipation, causing her small perfect breasts to swell with each breath. She slowly extends her tongue and licks a slow, timid path from the base of the shaft to its head, Charon's head lolling backwards involuntarily as he takes a fist full of her hair in his large hand. _

"You are drunk, as am I," he said through heavy breathing and a tight jaw. She was on the mattress next to him, kneeling and looking at him with unmistakable desire. "And I would not want to take advantage-" Fiona crawled into his lap, straddling his waist on the edge of the bed. "Or have you regret your actions while under the influence-" he stopped speaking when Fiona's hands gripped his shoulders and she rolled her hips in his lap, causing his breath to hitch and a fire to ignite inside him.

"Charon," she whispered breathily. "I haven't been drunk when I invited you into my bed every night for the last week. And I'm not embarrassed or ashamed if anyone knows about it." She raised herself on her knees to get closer to Charon's face. His bluish eyes tracked her every movement as her hands drifted to either side of his neck, caressing the patchwork tapestry of skin and exposed muscle. She looked carefully at his weathered lips, not feeling in any way dissuaded by their appearance. Fiona parted her moist lips slightly as she closed the distance between them and-

A large hand grabbed the back of her head roughly, stopping her from proceeding. At first, she mistook the look in Charon's eyes for anger. The way he was staring at her was hard and intense but his hands were trembling. His shaking hand eased the tight grip on her hair and he locked eyes with Fiona.

"When you purchased my contract, you gave me a standing order to be honest with you. So I feel I need to tell you something, so there can be no misunderstanding," Charon whispered low and gruff close to her ear.

Fiona shivered with excitement just hearing the intensity in his voice. "Ok," she breathed out.

Pulling her face backwards slightly so that she could see him clearly, Charon rested one shaking hand on her hip and held tightly while the other stayed tangled in her hair. "This last week when we have shared a bed, has been incredible. But it has also been confusing and frustrating. I do not know what is permitted or even what is _expected_ of me. I know what I want but…" Charon took a deep breath and his head dropped low, touching his forehead to hers. "Fiona, laying with you every night, I feel like a starving man who has been presented with a feast and forbidden to eat. So you must tell me _exactly_ what you are comfortable with and stop me if I go too far. Because otherwise…" Charon moved his mouth to Fiona's ear as she continued to roll her hips against his, and whispered "If you turn me loose on you right now," his hand traveled from her hip to her back and underneath the shirt, "I will not stop until I have had my fill."

The combination of desperation and danger in his voice sent a jolt down her spine as he clutched her head possessively and his hand explored the smooth expanse of her back. Fiona felt her legs tremble and her face go numb, and breathing heavily she clenched her entire body letting the small wave pass as her vision went out of focus.

As Fiona recovered, Charon dragged his fingertips down the length of her back causing her to arch sharply into him and gasp. Her head still locked in place by his large palm, Charon took in every minute expression: the way her breath came out in shaky exhales, the fluttering of her eyes as she tried to focus, her mouth hanging open slightly with lips moist from the circling of a nervous tongue.

Fiona's hands were still caressing Charon's neck and she lifted her gaze back to his face. The intensity in his eyes sobered her slightly. He did have the desperation of a man starving for affection and contact. She suddenly felt a tremendous weight settle in her chest. Without intending to she'd been essentially teasing him all week. Fiona knew he would never hurt her or go too far, contract or not, but in the moment she found herself a bit intimidated by the seven foot ghoul holding her head and waiting for an answer.

"Charon," she breathed, "I won't let you go hungry." His face relaxed and he chuckled softly at the use of his metaphor. Through his own haze of alcohol, Charon's hand ventured lower, gently ghosting over he rear. The tiny moan it elicited from her was like music. Fiona pulled herself from the bombardment of distracting sensations, trying to think clearly. "As for what is 'permitted'… I think I need to go slow," she said, her face turning shy and apologetic. "I still think about the raiders sometimes and… well I don't have a lot of experience."

Charon stroked her cheek with his thumb. His eyes, though still intense, a bit softer now. Calming his painful arousal with a few deep breaths he answered, "Slow is fine."

"Are you sure? You're not mad?" Fiona asked timidly.

"Why would I be angry?" he asked tenderly.

"You said you'd been frustrated. I've probably given you the worst pair of blue balls in the wastes."

Charon relaxed and laughed, his hand returning to her hip and stroking lightly, unable to keep his hands off of her body. "Pretty bad. But not the worst. That award goes to Gob."

Fiona muffled her laughter in Charon's neck, her warm breath tickling his skin. Realizing he still had one hand gripping her hair he released quickly, apologizing. "It's ok," she responded, her mouth near his earhole. "I kind of like the aggressive Charon." She placed a gentle kiss on the side of his face and Charon trembled and sighed. "And I like the shy Charon, too." Another kiss on his chin. "And the sarcastic Charon is always sexy." A kiss higher, right along his cheekbone. "And the tender Charon that holds me at night and puts up with my awkwardness, I'm really glad I got to meet him." A kiss above his nasal bone. Each kiss lasted a fraction of a second longer than the last and increased in intensity. Finally, having worked up the nerve, Fiona moved in on her intended target. Her tongue licked a circle around her mouth, moistening her small pink lips. Guiding one hand behind his head, she tilted her head slightly and closed the distance. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she made contact with his rough lips. It felt right.

Fiona felt his lips move against hers gently, restraining himself from pushing too fast. She opened her lips and darted her tongue out, gently coaxing him to reciprocate. Charon moaned against her mouth as they met, tasting one another for the first time. They both tasted the tang of vodka, and Fiona tasted the stale smoke in his mouth. But it tasted like him, like Charon, and she didn't mind for an instant. The kiss was slow and timid, their tongues gently probing and exploring, lingering on each new sensation and taste while their hands did the same.

Fiona kept one hand on the back of Charon's head while the other explored the solid expanse of his chest. Even with her eyes closed, she was able to map the well-defined muscles as she felt along every ripple and curve. Remembering the glimpse of him she'd seen in the Rivet City clinic, Fiona couldn't mask her excitement and involuntarily rolled her hips against his straining erection. With that, Charon deepened the kiss by plunging more aggressively into her mouth. Fiona eagerly submitted. His hand returned to the back of her head and the other grabbed a handful of her rear, squeezing firmly. Fiona broke their kiss to gasp in pleasure.

Charon looked at her with raw need and Fiona wondered when the last time anyone touched him affectionately was. It was probably before the war and the thought of a man going two centuries without affectionate human touch hit her like a sucker punch. She might not be able to fix all of his problems, but she wanted remedy that particular wrong immediately. Maintaining eye contact with him, Fiona reached her hands to the hem of his shirt and began lifting. For a moment Charon's body went stiff.

"Please," Fiona whispered. "I want to see you." Charon relaxed a bit and lifted his arms as she pulled the shirt free from his body. Taking in his perfect musculature, she pushed him backwards slightly, signaling him to lie back. He slowly moved to the center of the bed, Fiona crawling with him, and rested on his back. Straddling his waist, Fiona let her hands and mouth roam every inch of exposed flesh. From his face to his hips, her delicate touch electrified Charon more than he'd ever thought possible. He could not remember the last time someone had touched him with so much tenderness and it made his heart ache. But his reaction wasn't only emotional. Fiona wasn't even touching him below the belt but he felt his member twitch every time her hot breath hit his skin.

Just when Charon thought he couldn't take any more he felt her hands move to his waistband. His eyes shot open and caught Fiona's gaze. She looked nervous.

"I am ok with slow," he reminded her softly, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching out to touch her face.

"I know," she whispered. "And we will go slow…ish. But life in the wasteland is too short and… you've been teased enough. So let me do this, ok?" Charon remained silent as her hands fumbled with the buttons and leather. Still propped on his elbows he was captivated as her small delicate hands coaxed him from his pants. He was already aroused and had been stimulated enough to realize that she wouldn't have to do very much for him to climax. Fiona's mouth hung open slightly, staring at what she had revealed. Charon almost lost his control when she looked up at him with the same expression from his fantasies: awe and a hint of fear. It had been so long since a woman had expressed any interest in him that he had almost forgotten that he was considered to be very well endowed. But he was reminded of that fact abruptly when she timidly lowered her mouth to the head of his cock and barely fit her mouth around him.

Charon's head shot backwards as he opened his mouth in a silent moan, keeping quiet so as not to wake any other residents. One hand shot to the back of Fiona's head but he stopped himself from shoving her down onto his shaft. Her small hands, slick with saliva, were working the lower end of his shaft as she struggled to take as much of him into her tiny mouth as possible. She rose to the challenge, skillfully working her hands in sync with her mouth and using her tongue in ways he'd forgotten about. For a minute Charon was lost in a haze as he experienced sensations he never thought he would feel again, much less with someone like Fiona. He opened his eyes to take in all of her. She knelt between his legs with her ass in the air while she feverishly worked to please him and the slight of it brought Charon very close to orgasm.

Suddenly, Fiona pushed her mouth down further attempting to deep throat his shaft. The sudden increase in pressure and the subsequent gagging of the girl on her knees before him sent Charon immediately over the edge. His hand held her head steady, but he was careful not to push downwards, as his entire body shook with the force of an orgasm decades in the making. His vision went white and he tried to stay quiet but a strangled moan escaped his lips as he shot himself into Fiona's mouth.

Fiona's eyes went wide as she felt his member begin to pulse. She was used to swallowing but he was much bigger than she was accustomed to and as his seed exploded into the back of her mouth she shut her eyes and forced herself as deep onto him as she could handle. His thick semen slid down the back of her throat as she made a concerted effort to swallow as much as she could. It seemed like Charon came for a full minute before he finally softened slightly in her mouth and stopped pulsing his seed. Taking one last swallow and dragging her tongue upwards as she released him from her mouth, Fiona took in Charon's relaxed form. Smiling to herself, she licked her lips seductively as the large ghoul lay boneless on the bed, his mouth hanging open slightly and breathing heavily with a contented smile.

Taking advantage of his relaxed state, Fiona pulled his pants off completely and placed them with the rest of his clothes in the corner. She stopped and smiled at Dogmeat, who was sound asleep on top of Charon's bedroll. Before returning to bed, she also grabbed a bottle of water in her pack and took a few swigs to wash her mouth. Fiona felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The tension and uncertainty was easing and now that things were more out in the open between them she hoped that whatever this was developing would have a chance to grow. Returning to bed, Fiona crawled on all fours towards Charon and was about to ask him if this had been worth the wait when she noticed… he was asleep.

Laughing to herself she thought, _Wow, I guess that's a yes._ She took care not to wake him as she lifted the sheet over his lower half and curled up next to him. He roused for a moment, mumbling something under his breath she couldn't make out and turned on his side to face her. Pulling her close, they fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.


	25. Chapter 25: Subtlety

Fiona woke to the strong heartbeat of the ghoul she fell asleep with. He was still and silent but she knew he was awake from the rhythm of his breathing. Craning her neck upwards, she saw Charon's eyes open and staring at the ceiling with an unreadable expression on his face. The goofy smile he fell asleep with was gone. He still had one strong arm around her as he glanced down to her pale face on his shoulder. Meeting her eyes, his gaze softened.

"Good morning," he whispered, and squeezed her closer.

Fiona returned the embrace. "Good morning to you, too." She lifted a hand to stroke the side of Charon's face and he let loose a breathy sigh in response. Grinning, she ran her thumb over his lips before leaning up and planting a gentle kiss there. He smiled and sighed, hand stroking her back, but he still looked distracted. "I uh," she paused, "I've never actually woken up with anyone before… after um, you know, intimacy. It's nice."

"Its has been a very long time for me, but yes, it is." His voice was affectionate but distant.

Fiona grew increasingly nervous as the moments ticked by. There were no sounds in Carol's Place so Fiona assumed it must be very early. Charon continued to caress her back and stare at the ceiling lost in thought. She tried to calm herself. If anything, Fiona thought, this was just a part of Charon's pattern of coping with change. He'd experience a positive change, accept it but then close off for a while, but he always opened back up. Maybe he just needed time to process what happened. But the fear that he might regret what happened was undeniable. He had not seemed hesitant in the least last night. His barely restrained passion had spoken volumes. However, he had been drunk.

Before she worked up the nerve to ask any questions, the silence was interrupted by a small whining sound, followed by a muffled woofing. Fiona rolled over to see Dogmeat still curled up on the bedroll, with his paws twitching and lips curling back every few seconds. She gasped, sitting up. "What's wrong with him?" she whispered fearfully.

Charon was silent for a moment before chuckling. "Nothing, smoothskin. He's dreaming." She looked embarrassed for a moment before laying back down.

"Yeah, I guess I have no idea what I'm doing with him. I'd never seen a dog up close before him." Fiona looked back over her shoulder to the sleeping animal. "He seems to like you more than me."

Charon shrugged. "I have just spent more time with him. Also I have been the one feeding him."

"Yeah, that's true." Fiona traced her fingers over the outline of his abs.

"I forget this is your first dog," Charon added.

"Recently, _everything_ has been my first something," she sighed. "A few months ago I got my first look at the sun. A few days later I got my first sun burn. I shot a real gun for the first time. I got shot _at_ for the first time. Met my first ghoul…" she snuggled closer to him and whispered "and slept with my very first ghoul." He gave her a curious smile and Fiona quickly began stumbling over words. "Not that I plan on sleeping with any more… others… ghouls. Or anyone else, I mean."

Charon rolled slightly to face her and kissed her forehead. "I know what you mean," he said gently, "and you do not owe me an explanation. Or any promises." His sad smile said more than words ever could.

"What?" Fiona asked, her heart sinking.

He stoked her hair affectionately, breathing in her scent. "You do have a habit of taking in mangey strays, don't you?"

"Just the one," Fiona said, confused. Then she caught the joke. "Oh hush," she said, playfully slapped his arm. "You're not mangey." He chuckled softly and pulled her tightly against him. Fiona could feel the centuries of loneliness in the embrace and she returned it as best she could. Finally she looked up and asked, "Charon, tell me what's wrong. What's going on in that giant head of yours?"

"I suppose it is giant to you," he teased. Taking her hand, he held it flat against is own and it was absolutely dwarfed. "All of me is giant next to you." He looked mesmerized as he inched backwards and slowly moved his large hand from her face, down her arms, across her stomach and finally rested it on her hip. "You're so small," he whispered, as if to himself.

"You're avoiding the question," she responded. "Twice now you've changed the subject."

Charon sighed, defeated. "I am aware." Rolling onto his back, an arm still around her, he spoke at the ceiling. "I am thinking about the future. Running scenarios. Best and worst cases. Just the strategist in me, I suppose. It is hard to turn off. Assuming it is me doing all this thinking and not the Institute 'co-pilot' in my fucking head."

Fiona hugged him tightly. "Charon, you're still… you. But now we have a better idea of what was done to you and there's got to be some way to fix it."

"Perhaps," he said. "At the very least, I now have a better understanding of what has been driving me. It puts some of the things I have done into… perspective. I do not feel any less guilt, but now I have something to focus the anger towards other than myself."

Fiona sat up halfway, propped on her elbow and looked down at the contemplative ghoul. He was still being vague. She decided not to push him for answers and let him open up at his own pace. Charon clearly had a lot to think about after yesterday's news at the clinic. She gently stroked the side of his face. "Whatever scenarios you're imagining for your future, try not to focus on only the negative ones like I know you're probably doing. Hold out hope for the better ones. Or better yet, do everything you can to _make_ the good ones become reality." He looked at her incredulously. Sighing, Fiona deflated a bit. "Yes, I can hear myself and I know it sounds like corny bullshit. I know you've been without free will for a long time and it might be hard to get back into taking charge of your own life but… you can." Charon began to open his mouth to rebut but she placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

"Listen," she began. "Even if we never get you freed from your contract, while you're with me you can be honest. And if you don't want to follow me anymore you are free to go and make your own life wherever you like. The only orders I've ever explicitly given you have been ones that benefit you."

"I want to follow you," he said simply.

"Ok then. So we've established that you are allowed to do what you want and you are doing it. Charon, no matter what nightmare future scenarios you play out in your head I'll be there to make sure they don't become real." She leaned down and kissed him slowly and tenderly. "And by the way," she teased as she leaned back up, "you're the one who got a blow job last night. So why am I the chipper one this morning?"

This got a genuine laugh from the ghoul, who quickly rolled over to pin Fiona beneath him. The quickness of the large man was always surprising. He looked her in the eyes. "I apologize for my mood. I did not intend to seem… ungrateful. Quite the opposite actually." He leaned down and planted soft kisses along her neck, up to her ear lobe. Lightly grabbing the lobe with his teeth and exhaling warm breath into her ear, he gave a gentle tug and nip. Fiona gasped loudly and moaned. Charon smiled against her neck and repeated this a few times before moving his mouth lower to the top of her chest. She could feel his erection against her thigh and without thinking, spread her legs. Fiona repeated her vow to move slowly in her head but it was becoming difficult to remember why she had made the request to begin with.

Charon slid one hand underneath her shirt and very gently caressed her breast, teasing a nipple between two fingers. Fiona immediately arched into his touch, her breathing coming in shorter gasps. Charon moved his other hand lower, slowly drawing his fingertips along the waistband of her underwear. Fiona opened her eyes to meet his questioning gaze.

"If you would like," he whispered, "I could return the favor."

Fiona felt a wave of heat sweep over her body and her head grew lighter. "I…uh," she stumbled, "I've never… no one's ever done… that…"

Charon's movements stopped suddenly. "Your little vault boyfriend only received but never gave back?" His voice, deep and husky with arousal, had a trace of jealousy to it now. Fiona knew what she was doing last night. She'd obviously had practice in the art of fellatio. The thought of her on her knees in front of some asshole teenager in a vault suit flashed in his mind and his blood ran cold for a moment before he banished the images.

"I guess," she said shyly. "He was always too nervous to do it."

Charon smirked and gave a huff. His grin said all that was needed. "I am not a nervous little boy," he said with obvious relish. Charon very slowly moved further down her body but did not remove her underwear yet. He would wait for permission. Instead, he lowered his face to the junction between her legs and let loose a long slow exhale of warm breath. Fiona's reaction was immediate and satisfying. She arched her hips towards his mouth and a sharp high-pitched whimper escaped her lips. That single sound was enough to make Charon's member twitch in excitement.

_Down boy_, he thought desperately. _You've waited a long damn time, you can wait just a little longer._ Charon leaned down to repeat the motion that Fiona had so vocally approved of when he heard another sound. This one was significantly less arousing. Behind him he heard the distinctive sound of heavy breathing… through the screen outside their room.

* * *

Carol woke to the sound of crashing metal and choking. She shot up, eyes still blurry and unfocused and looked towards the source of the disturbance. Her mouth hung open slightly and she cocked her head for a moment, wondering if she was dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time she'd imagined Charon charging into her establishment, nakeder than the day he was born. He always had an air of mystery about him and a woman is allowed to daydream after all. However, this was the first time the dream involved him knocking things over and trying to kill a patron. _Definitely had too much to drink with the smoothskin last night,_ she thought.

But after a moment her mind cleared and she realized that, unfortunately, she wasn't dreaming. She was very much awake and Charon was naked, the medical screen divider separating the "suite" from the rest of the guests was on its side and he was holding Mr. Crowley two feet off the ground… by the throat. Crowley was a newer resident in Underworld. He had rented a bed from Carol for almost a year now while he searched for someone to take care of some "business" for him. Carol never asked what the business was. The man reminded her far too much of Ahzrukhal for her liking with his grimy pre-war suit and oily smile.

The ghoul was now squirming desperately, his feet kicking jerkily in his scuffed pre-war dress shoes while his hands clawed at Charon's in a futile attempt to escape. The dog that had come in with the pair was jumping around underneath the terrified ghoul, snapping excitedly at his feet. Carol had no idea what had started the incident but she couldn't help but notice that in addition to his nudity, Charon was at full attention below the waist. So she could draw a few preliminary conclusions. Before Crowley could lose consciousness, the vault girl came rushing out behind Charon, wearing only her underthings Carol noticed, and placed a hand gently on Charon's bare chest.

"Charon," she said softly, "he's not worth it." The large ghoul looked down at her, his expression unreadable, and slowly released his grip. Crowley fell to the floor with a loud thud, eyes wide and gasping for air. Fiona knelt down to be eye level with the recovering man and gave him a hard stare as Charon held the dog back and shooed the creature back into the room. "The next time you feel like peeping, I won't call him off." Fiona rose slowly, anger radiating from her. She stared down the peeping ghoul and after seeming to think for a moment… she spat. The wad of saliva missed Crowley's face but hit his shoulder and still had the intended effect. "_That's_ for killing the mood."

Straightening herself as Crowley crawled back to his rented bed grumbling threats under his breath, Fiona took a look around for the first time. Anger tended to give her tunnel vision and until this moment all she'd been able to see was Charon holding his target by the throat. Now she was vividly aware that Carol and Greta were staring at them with more than a little curiosity. Flashing red with embarrassment Fiona stuttered. "Hey. Uh, sorry for that. He um, we were… he was peeking through the curtain and…"

Charon rested a hand on her shoulder, seemingly unconcerned with his state of undress, and silently guided her back into the room as she she attempted to explain, propping the curtain back into its position behind them. The two ghoulettes stood where they were for a long time, staring at the space where the two lovers had been, and smiling widely.

Finally, Greta spoke. "Best. Gossip. Ever."

* * *

The couple left Underworld in the mid-morning after stocking up and checking back in with Dr. Barrows. The poor doctor had been up all night reading and researching but had more questions than answers. He had a better idea of what the devices were but only a vague idea of how they worked and every idea he had for removal was far too dangerous to attempt. His final recommendation was to try a deactivation of the tech somehow since removal was so risky. He, however, had no clue how to go about doing this. A tech expert was needed.

Fiona and Charon finished clearing the abandoned boarding platforms in Anacostia Crossing Station of the gang of raiders living there and took a break to rest inside one of the old ticket booths. The firefight had been longer than expected but Dogmeat got his first real chance to prove himself as a useful companion. After taking down two raiders completely on his own, and warning Charon of one who was closing in on him from the shadows, the dog had definitely earned his keep that day. Sitting next to Charon inside the booth, the animal happily accepted a strip of mirelurk meat a reward, wagging his tail so enthusiastically that he almost shook himself off of his feet.

They were close to their destination and were discussing their next move. On the floor of the old booth, Fiona rested her head against the cool metal wall across from her companion and continued making her case.

"I'm just saying that if he was knowledgeable enough to be able to fuck with Harkness' techno-brain, Pinkerton might be able to help with or without the surgeon guy. Harkness is recent Institute tech. Your brain worms are much older tech. So, maybe he won't need that weirdo's research," she said.

Charon paused for a moment. "Brain worms?"

"I'm calling them brain worms. They're all like…" Fiona made squiggling gestures with her fingers to imitate the twisting and curving of the artificial network, "wormy."

Charon stared blankly at her for several seconds before he broke out laughing. Through breaths he got out, "Leave it to you to make something so horrifying really adorable."

Fiona flushed bright red and felt her stomach flutter at the compliment. "I'm just naturally adorable and it transfers to all I say and do," she said jokingly.

Charon reached across the booth and took her hand in his, his large fingers entwining with her much smaller ones. "Alright," he relented. "Since Pinkerton is close to the Jefferson anyway it will not hurt to stop by. But I still believe we will need the research notes from this wasteland surgeon. In the logs, Pinkerton mentioned he had seen similar tech before but had never worked with it directly until he ran those simulations with our mystery weirdo. I would feel more assured if we had as much information as possible."

Fiona squeezed his hand. "I would never take a chance with your health. Or sanity. I won't let Pinkerton touch you if he's not 100% sure he knows what to do. He doesn't mention the surgeon again in his journal but maybe he's interacted with him since and just didn't record it. Also, if he has some idea where this 'toy factory' lab is… that'd be awesome."

"The only toy factory in the area that I have heard of is the old Red Racer factory. I have never been there, but it is supposed to be west of the DC ruins on the other side of the Potomac," Charon said.

Fiona paused, something dawning on her as well. "You know, I came across a place that might have been a toy factory too. It was back when I found Bryan in Grayditch. During the whole fire-breathing ants fiasco that almost killed me." Fiona paused to gather her memories. "It was north-ish of the town. It looked like an abandoned utilities building or something. I went inside to scav but when I got in there, there were a bunch of conveyer belts with teddy bears on them. It didn't look like much but it must have been some sort of toy making factory."

"And did you find anything that looked like a lab?" Charon asked curiously.

Fiona drew a breath through her teeth, indicating hesitation. "Ummmm… I didn't go in any further than that." Charon looked at her incredulously. "They were looking at me with their beady little teddy bear eyes, Charon!" The ghoul's face became amused and he suppressed snickering laughter. "Don't make fun of me! It was creepy! They were all arranged in poses. Some of them were smoking, one was propped up like it was aiming a gun. There were a few of them posed like they were having a weird teddy bear orgy. I knew someone had been in there and I didn't want to go exploring alone."

Funny as it was, Fiona made a good point. She had been alone and was relatively untrained. Going into a building that was clearly lived in recently would have been a bad idea. He stopped his laughter. "You are right," he reassured her. "That was the smart call. You were alone. And bears are very dangerous." He said the last line with a totally straight face.

The silence dragged on and Fiona distorted her face into a mock scowl. "Ass," she said defensively, but with little venom, and slapped his leg hard with her open palm.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline from the fight, or the release of endorphins from the previous night's activities, but Charon was in an uncharacteristically good mood. He dared to dream for a moment that things would be ok. He would somehow get free of his contract and things with Fiona would actually last and he could enjoy being happy for a while. But every time he tried to explore those thoughts, something felt off in his gut. Imagining that sort of happiness for himself felt… wrong.

"Charon?" Fiona repeated. "Are you ok? I asked you a question."

"Hmm?" he snapped out of his thoughts. "I apologize. I was not paying proper attention."

Fiona laughed. "Don't apologize. I just asked if you were ready to hit the surface."

Charon nodded and stood up, offering his hand to help Fiona to her feet. They exited the metro onto Anacostia Crossing, directly in front of Rivet City and Fiona breathed deep of the wasteland air. She always seemed to relish the moment she emerged to the surface from underground. "How did I ever live underground?" she said aloud. "It was all I ever knew but now I look back and it seems so fucking crazy."

"Safe though," Charon said. "If I had a daughter and I wanted to do right by her I would consider going underground."

Fiona stopped and gave him a firm look. "You are a master of subtlety, Charon." They resumed walking. After a few moments she added, "I'll try to go easy on my dad when we see him. But I can't promise I won't turn a little bitchy." Suddenly something occurred to her. "Oh shit. You're about to meet my dad." Fiona's stomach dropped in anticipation and she nervously began to start thinking of what to say and do around Charon when she introduced them. Furthermore, she had no idea what to introduce him as.

"Yes," Charon said cluelessly. However, after a moment his old memories of pre-war social protocols and stigmas began to reemerge. "Oh," he said in realization. "Would you rather he not see me?"

"What? No!" she exclaimed. "I just mean, I guess I don't know what to… I mean, how I do introduce you?"

Understanding what she meant, Charon regretted his words before they left his mouth. But he could not help feeling the need to distance himself. So, muting his expressions, he spoke. "You tell him the truth. I am your bodyguard. If you wish to omit the details of my contract as you did in Megaton and refer to me as a hired mercenary that may be wise for the time being."

Fiona kept her face neutral despite her tensed shoulders and agreed. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. The fewer people who know about your situation, the better. And it's hard to explain anyway." As they walked in the direction of the memorial, Fiona chastised herself. _I'm such a fucking child. I'm not in the sheltered vault anymore. Sex is casual up here. _Passing the main section of Rivet City, they turned and walked towards the broken bow. Pinkerton would have no doubt relocked the hatch and reset the traps and Fiona knew she needed to stay focused.

The lock was more easily picked this time around and the traps, though in different places and a bit trickier to disarm, were still taken care of without too much difficulty. Approaching the door to the reclusive man's laboratory Fiona sighed deeply, hoping this was not a waste of time. The scientist was busy at one of the large computers in the corner but heard them as soon as they stepped into his lab. He turned around slowly and crossed his arms.

"I put a sensor on the hatch after your last intrusion," he began. "So I knew someone was coming. When none of my new traps went off, I figured it was you again. So," he said with unconcealed annoyance, "what is it now?"

Doing her best to get back into character she began. "Dr. Pinkerton, I'm so sorry to bother you again. I know your research must be vital. But I recently encountered some very tricky pre-war technology and no one but you could possibly be intelligent enough to unlock its secrets." _Go on and lap it up you ego-maniacal asshat,_ she thought.

As predicted, the compliments were all that was necessary to promote his cooperation. Beaming he agreed. "Well, I suppose I could spare some time. I assume you've already consulted some of the 'fine minds' of the wasteland?"

"I have but unfortunately no one could make heads or tails of what we found," she lied.

Pinkerton scoffed. "Of course they couldn't. Well, go on. Tell me about this technology."

Fiona had copies of the scans taken from the Chop Shop and showed Pinkerton the images. He stared at them intently for several minutes. "This is really excellent work. This extent of integration would take a team months to achieve. These were taken _recently?_ Where did you find these images?"

Fiona hesitated for a moment. "They were taken yesterday by a doctor. The images are… they're of my friend here." She nodded in Charon's direction. "We have a general idea of what it is and only a vague idea of how they work. The question is how do we remove those things. And if they cannot be removed, can they at least be deactivated?"

"Hmmm," Pinkerton hummed with excitement. "Now this is really interesting." Glancing back and forth between the scans and Charon he finally spoke. "When were these implanted? And who did this?"

Charon spoke up. "200 years ago at the Institute."

Pinkerton was stunned. "Really? That is incredible." His voice was far too enthusiastic for Fiona's comfort and Charon felt a tightening of apprehension in his gut. "And all of the processors are still functional?"

Charon shrugged. "I believe so. Functional enough to still control me anyway."

Smiling wide, Pinkerton spoke mostly to himself. "So this is how it should look. Yes, I can see the pattern. And the process would require extraordinary care be taken…"

As he continued to marvel, Fiona became worried. Genius though he was, perhaps Pinkerton was not a good choice for assistance. He seemed totally unconcerned with Charon's well-being and only interested in the technology. This was not unexpected, but Fiona knew she would need to be careful and observe him closely with Charon. Finally, she interrupted.

"Dr. Pinkerton? Sir? Do you have any ideas?" Fiona asked.

"Oh I have many! Yes! This actually sheds light on some research I came across several years ago. A man who had discovered a cache of similar devices was experimenting on feral creatures using more basic versions of this technology. He had success with motor control but little else. Ha! For a moment I thought perhaps this was some of his latest work and I'd greatly underestimated him. But I can see now that this is clearly out of his league. He's probably still shoving prototypes into neurologically impaired creatures and hoping for miracles." Pinkerton spread the images cheerfully on his desk and began muttering to himself.

"Sir?" Fiona grew impatient. "I meant to do you have any ideas about removal?"

"Oh…" he mumbled. "Well certainly. Removal should be easy enough."

Charon perked up. Fiona smiled. "Really? That's excellent. The doctor we saw last said that removal would be too dangerous."

Pinkerton faltered a bit, then looked up from the scans. "Oh," he said with annoyance. "You meant removal without causing brain damage or the death of your creature. Well, that's a great deal more difficult-"

In three steps Charon crossed the distance to Pinkerton's desk and grabbed the man by the collar, shoving him against a wall. His face was hard and cold as he spoke. "I am _not_ a creature."

Fiona leisurely followed, in no real hurry to call Charon off, and stood beside him as Pinkerton remained pressed uncomfortably to the unyielding surface behind him. She whispered to the frightened scientists "He doesn't like being called a creature. You should probably not do that again." Patting Charon's arm lightly, she signaled for him to release the old man. "Now then," Fiona continued, "let's continue our discussion. You said removal without causing brain damage or death was 'difficult.' Just how difficult?" Pinkerton straightened his shirt and looked suspiciously at the two visitors, his mouth tight and eyes wary. After a few moments it was clear he was going to refuse to speak. Fiona sighed heavily, calming herself. She did not want to make an enemy of this man but also needed to make their needs clear.

"Doctor," she began calmly, "please understand the situation clearly. Two centuries ago this man was tortured and violated for no god damn reason. The very men whose lives he saved got bored and turned him into a science project. We are here hoping that you can use your expertise to right that wrong."

Pinkerton was silent at first, staring warily at Charon. "Fine," he said. "I am perfectly willing to help. I am interested in the technology primarily, but you have my word that I will do no harm to your… friend."

"Excellent," Fiona piped cheerily. "Now let's talk plans."

"Well, I will need to have some background." He spoke and looked solely and Fiona. "How long this process took, if he remembers any details about the surgery, the medications used-"

Fiona interrupted. "He is standing right there," she pointed. "You can address him directly. By the way, his _name_ is Charon."

He looked nervously to the large ghoul. "Very well then… Charon. Let's sit down."

The two men spoke calmly for over an hour, Charon answering questions in a matter-of-fact fashion and Pinkerton taking notes while theorizing out loud. While Charon did not remember any of the technical details like the types of medications used or the surgical details, Pinkerton was able to theorize about their methods and some of the reasons as to why they chose to use something tangible like the "contract" to connect him to his servitude. It made very little sense to Fiona at first, why with all the technology imbedded into his brain the scientists would condition him to "serve" a contract when they could just as easily have conditioned him to serve them personally, or the Institute as a whole. But Pinkerton made a point to add that the scientists may have had no intention of keeping Charon around after the research was completed and something like a contract made it easy to transfer him easily without resistance. In fact, that is precisely what happened according to Charon.

"And approximately ten years into my employment for Dr. Hopkins it was determined that my contract was to be transferred. My physical condition had deteriorated to the point where I believe it made others uncomfortable. I was given to an expedition team that was scheduled to venture outside for purposes of mapping and exploration of the newly created wasteland. I was with them, or more precisely the expedition leader Dr. Anders, for a little over two years before the team succumbed to some strange illness. I do not know what it was, but it did not seem to effect me. I wandered after that, until I came upon a settlement some months later and found someone to take my contract. Since then I have been a bodyguard about a dozen times, a caravan guard a few times as well, a bouncer at a brothel and most recently at a bar." Charon's voice was totally emotionless as he relayed the history.

"And how many years was it before the conditioning weakened to the point where you actually tried to walk away?" Pinkerton asked, taking notes.

"Approximately 40 years after I left the Institute, or 50 years after the war."

"Amazing it lasted as long as it did without any reinforcement," Pinkerton commented to himself. "More so that the processors still operate today at all. Fascinating…"

Finally, Fiona spoke up. "Yeah, 'fascinating' as it is, what are your thoughts on _helping_ him?"

"Well, given that removal comes with too many risks, it should be possible to deactivate the processors remotely. However…" Pinkerton paused, seeming almost embarrassed, "I'm afraid I wouldn't know how to… exactly… do that."

Fiona stood, shocked. The great "genius" Horace Pinkerton did not know how to do something.

He continued on to defend himself and his genius. "It's not that I don't know how to do it in theory," he said adamantly, "but rather I would need very specific codes to do so and without knowing what they are we'd be taking stabs in the dark that are far riskier than attempting removal. I know very little as to the specifics… yet… but I do know that the devices are all set up to receive radio waves broadcast on certain frequencies. It is likely how the original team members were able to manage the growth of the nanotubes and direct behavior. There would have to be a disable command in case of emergency but unless I know the the correct frequency and code I could accidentally do something like… trigger a seizure or even some sort of self-destruct. No, we'll need to find specific information about the codes."

Fiona, already knowing the answer asked, "Doctor, you said you encountered a man a few years ago who had found similar technology. Would he be able to help?"

"Possibly," Pinkerton mumbled. "He did find a number of similar chips some years back and seems to have figured out enough about them to successfully implant a few. I highly doubt he had the intellect to do all of this on his own so there must have been some instructions or research material included in the discovery. I have not seen him since but when we last spoke he told me he had carved a laboratory space out of the old Red Racer tricycle factory. You could see if he's still there."

Charon nodded and stood. "And if we find this information you will be able to deactivate the chips?"

Pinkerton paused. "Well I won't know until I can see the research, but it's possible."

"Well then," Fiona said, "I guess we know where we're headed tomorrow. Thank you, doctor."

The pair rose and left quietly, Pinkerton grumbling about needing to start office hours if he was to be seeing patients now. As they exited the broken bow, Charon turned and said "See how nice and civil I was?"

Fiona laughed and smiled. "I was very impressed. And you set an excellent example for me. Maybe I'll be polite and calm when we see my dad."


	26. Chapter 26: Still Waters

**Author's Note:** **Happy Holidays!** **Sorry for the long break. I have not been very happy with the last few installments and spent a long time wondering if I should re-write them entirely. Sometimes things don't get translated well from inside my head and onto paper. But since they are out there now I decided to just keep trekking along. Each chapter gets a little harder to write… Let me know what you think.**

* * *

Another day passed. At this point in his life, the days hardly mattered. Fifteen years ago there was an illusory light at the end of the tunnel. The passing of the days had some meaning when he believed that they would bring him closer to his promised freedom. But Gob gave up that hope long ago. Now, at the end of another long day there was only the brief respite from his daily torment before tomorrow's began. Sometime around 3a.m. was usually when Moriarty passed out drunk. By that time the bar was empty of patrons and Gob had roughly one precious hour when he was truly off duty. Every other hour of the day was spent asleep or working. But this short time was reserved for them.

Nova crept quietly down the stairs after her last client of the night had left and sat wearily down at the bar. It had been a long day. She'd not had many clients but the few she had taken were ones she hated. Jericho actually had money somehow and spent a few hours with her. Also, one of the caravan merchants, "Doc Hoff" he called himself, had been by.

Jericho, she disliked for obvious reasons. He was loud, crass, dirty and, having been a former raider, she could only imagine some of the horrors the man had committed in his younger days. Bedding him without tasting bile in her mouth took every ounce of her "professionalism" to achieve.

Hoff, on the other hand, was fairly clean for a wastelander, especially a traveling merchant. He was well spoken and had decent manners. But the man sent a chill up her spine. Every time Hoff stopped in for her services she was barely able to make it through their "session" as he called it. Doc Hoff liked it rough and enjoyed humiliating her during their encounters. If it wasn't for the numbing effect of the Jet, Nova was sure she'd not be able to make it through without crying.

But now, in the early hours, everyone was gone or asleep and it was just the two of them at the bar. Gob smiled sadly, knowing the kind of day she'd had. She never spoke about which clients she liked and which ones she didn't, which ones were decent to her and which ones used her like a punching bag. But Gob knew. He could always tell. Reaching underneath the bar, he retrieved the bottle of wine he'd saved and poured a generous amount into a tumbler. Sliding it to Nova, he smiled softly.

She returned his smile. "Gobbie," she said softly. "You always know when I've had a bad day, huh?"

He didn't speak, just nodded shyly and began wiping down the bar for the umpteenth time that day as Nova slowly sipped the wine. She wasn't sure when he had stopped being "that ghoul" and starting just being… Gob. But it had been a very long time since she'd been bothered by his physical appearance. Gob was the only person in her life who still treated her like a human being, and until recently, she'd been the only one in his life to reciprocate. During these late hours, just the two of them, they could relax and be themselves. They could be friends. But every other waking hour of the day Nova knew it was safest for the both of them if she downplayed that fact.

It was a terrible thing to admit, but she'd been a bit jealous of Gob's new friend, the vault girl, when she'd come to town. Fiona had the luxury of chatting, smiling and openly admitting to the town that she saw nothing wrong with the bartender. It had made her more of a target for Moriarty and vicious rumors, but the girl didn't seem to care. And now her ghoul "bodyguard" was spending time acting like buddies with Gob too. Nova didn't believe for one minute that the massive ghoul who'd just moved into town, and into the girl's house, was _only_ hired muscle given the way those two looked at each other. She found herself intrigued rather than disgusted by their relationship. If they could do it, then… Nova stopped that line of thought. It was best not to go there.

At any rate, she was glad that Gob had other people in his life who he could talk to now. Having another ghoul around made him feel less alone, she could tell. And Fiona had treated Gob like a human being from the moment she'd wandered out of that vault. Nova felt a sense of shame wash over her as she remembered her own first reaction to Gob. Disgust. It had taken over a year before she really started to see Gob for what he really was. A better man than most.

Nova stared affectionately at her friend as he went through the motions of his job, unthinking and reflexive after so many years. She could relate to that all too well. Staring forward with a faraway look in her eyes, she finally spoke. "Hope they get back soon…"

Gob finished collecting empty glasses from the counter. "Me too. You, uh… you really think he'll help us?"

"Yeah," Nova said as she took a long sip. "I think he will. He didn't ask any questions when I asked him for the favor. He just nodded and said he'd find some of the… stuff… for us. So he's gotta know what we're planning." She put the glass down gently, her hands shaking slightly as she came down from her high. "You're sure we can trust him, Gob?" Nova's grey-blue eyes stared deeply into him. The look of hope laced with fear was one Gob was all too familiar with.

He stepped around the bar and sat next to her on a stool. "Yeah," he said simply, facing forward and staring at the same faraway place in the distance. "I know we can."

* * *

When they first entered the memorial, Fiona was hit with the stench of decaying bodies. The super mutants they had killed on their first visit were still untouched and the festering corpses filled the air with death. Fiona gagged and covered her mouth, trying not to vomit. Charon, though more accustomed to the smell of decay, barely avoided nausea himself. Still treading carefully in case of any hostiles inside, the pair made their way to the empty Rotunda and then to the basement, all dead mutants still in place and rotting with no signs of James' return. Upon entering the room her father had been using, they found it still abandoned with no signs of occupancy at any point, her note still weighted underneath the half empty bottle of scotch. And the panic began.

"FUCK!" Fiona's panic was escalating quickly and Charon had no idea how to calm her. He stood stock still in the corner of her father's still abandoned sleeping quarters in the basement of the Jefferson Memorial. Her shaking hands clung to the note she'd left two weeks ago, untouched and unread during that time. Her eyes were growing wider with each moment and her breathing was erratic. Fiona was going to pass out if she wasn't careful.

"This is all my fault!" she exclaimed. "I should have kept going after him. Why didn't I just keep moving? Something's happened to him, Charon! He's out there and might be dead and I just sat on my ass for _two weeks_ waiting!" Fiona's voice was so high and panicked that she barely sounded human. Collapsing to her knees, she began to sob.

Charon stood with his back to the rusty metal wall. He felt completely helpless, having no idea what to do or say to ease Fiona's pain. Realistically, there was nothing that could be done in the moment except to let her purge her tears. So Charon stood frozen. Eventually, Fiona's tears began to dry up and her breathing returned to normal, but she remained on her knees with her head in her hands. Something about crying females had always made him uneasy. And now, having stood by totally useless while she sobbed, he felt doubly ashamed as the dog nuzzled her hands affectionately and provided the comfort he did not.

Before he could reprimand himself further, Fiona rose to her feet. Her face was flushed and her eyes were red. She looked exhausted. Staring ahead at some point in space, she spoke. "We're heading out to Vault 112. Now." With an expression that was more emotionless than any he'd seen from her, Fiona grabbed her pack from the floor and made for the door of the room. Finally, Charon snapped to attention.

"Wait." His voice was softer than he'd intended, almost pleading, a sound that surprised the both of them. Fiona stopped and turned to look at him. "We should rest. You are… tired. And the sun will set soon. Traveling in the dark is unwise." Charon kicked himself for his inability to express personal concern. He was simply… out of practice.

Fiona's jaw tensed and a small vein in her forehead appeared. She turned around slowly and stared Charon down with a look he was very familiar with, but had never been directed towards him before. She spoke slowly, letting venom seep into each word. "My father, my only family, the reason I was thrust into this hellscape… is out there somewhere. He is trapped or hurt at _best_. And your suggestion is to wait even longer because of things in the night that go 'boo'?"

Charon stood, flabbergasted. Fiona had never raised her voice at him before. "I…" Charon stuttered uncharacteristically. "I spoke out of place. I apologize." Out of habit, Charon averted his eyes submissively.

Immediately, Fiona felt her face burn with shame and her anger evaporate. "Charon," she lowered her voice carefully and approached him. Fiona reached out to him, taking his hand in hers, and Charon met her gaze. "It's ok. I'm just worried. I'm not angry at you. I promise." He seemed to relax with her reassurance and released a shaky breath. Fiona took another step forward, standing flush against him and wrapped her arms around his massive frame, burying her head in his chest.

Once she calmed down again, Fiona did take Charon's advise to stay the night at the Jefferson before continuing their search for her father. They ate dinner in comfortable silence and then Charon maintained their weapons while Fiona planned their route to the area where the hidden vault was supposed to be located.

"I heard Three Dog talking about a raider encampment called Evergreen Mills," she broke their silence. "Definitely a place to avoid. I think it's in this area," she said pointing to the map on her Pip Boy.

Charon moved to sit beside her on the bed and indicated with a calloused finger where the infamous area was located. "It's right there, in a gorge. A set of old train tracks lead into the entrance. I remember it from years ago when Ahzrukhal had 'business' there. I'd drop a nuke on the fucking place if I could."

Fiona marked the spot and noticed it was uncomfortably close to the Vault 112 location. "I hope he didn't get caught by raiders," she whispered.

"Your dad seems pretty competent from what Dr. Li said," Charon reassured her. "I'm sure he stayed away from there."

After a moment of contemplation, Fiona spoke again. "If we leave in the morning we can be there by late afternoon. Assuming we don't run into any trouble…"

Charon scoffed. "When do we ever not run into trouble, smoothskin?" he smirked. This actually got a laugh from her. It was a welcome sound.

With everything taken care of for the night, Charon set traps around the basement and locked their door for the night. He laid out his bed roll for Dogmeat at the foot of the bed as Fiona began to undress. It was a sight he would never get used to. Her smooth, sleek skin stretched taught over increasingly lean muscle. Her backside was firm and petite but perfectly round, and Charon knew he was staring. As she crawled into bed in her underclothes, Fiona turned around and gave Charon a "come hither" motion with her fingers, smiling coyly. Chuckling to himself, Charon stripped out of his leather jacket and undershirt and joined her.

Wrapping his arms around his beautiful employer, he squeezed tightly. "We will find him."

Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, she believed him. "I know we will. And he'll finally explain what the fuck he was thinking when he left the vault in the middle of the night. I'll get some answers and some closure out of it. Then… I can get on with my life. Make a permanent home somewhere. Maybe even in Megaton? Who knows." She was surprised by how good that idea sounded to her.

Fiona closed her eyes and relaxed in Charon's arms, tracing the muscles of his back with her fingertips. She felt him sigh and relax under her gentle touches. Smiling to herself, she continued tracing the outlines of his perfect musculature while increasing and decreasing pressure at regular intervals like a massage. As Charon began to hum with pleasure, Fiona opened her eyes to take in his face. She had never seen him look so relaxed. He almost seemed… happy.

Smiling, she drew closer to his face and planted a gentle kiss on his weathered lips. Responding in kind, Charon pressed his lips to hers, parting them gently with his smokey tongue. Fiona moaned in approval and her hands gripped his back roughly, trying to draw him flush against her. Charon responded by rolling on top of her and pressing his lips to hers roughly, an aroused growl coming from his throat. Fiona felt herself instantly react, her underwear becoming damp between her thighs.

Charon's hands continued to explore Fiona's body. He felt light-headed, still trying to believe that this beautiful smoothskin was really in his arms. Wanting him. With his weight on one elbow, his free hand stroked her side gently and she arched into his touch. Their lips still joined, Fiona moaned deeply as his hand dove behind her and grasped her rear roughly. Operating on instinct, she grabbed the back of his head and deepened their kiss while her legs wrapped tightly around Charon's waist.

Charon was losing his mind. His member strained painfully in his leather pants as they continued to grind and Charon had to call upon every ounce of restraint he had not to free himself and take her. Finally, he broke the kiss to look into her clear dark eyes. Breathing heavily, she looked back at him with eyes heavy with arousal. Her hand caressed his rough cheek and she squeezed her legs around his waist one more time.

"Charon," she whispered huskily. "I need it."

Those three words said it all. She didn't want it. She _needed_ it. Charon was never very good at understanding emotions or women. And when it came to the emotions _of_ women he tended to know even less. But where he lacked natural intuition on the matter, two centuries of life had filled in the blanks. Fiona was simply upset and needed to feel better. The sudden explosion of desire was ultimately a response to her grief. But Charon was still a man. A man who had not had a truly satisfying sexual encounter in 200 years. Gritting his teeth… he pulled away.

Fiona looked shocked. "Charon?" she asked, voice heavy with worry. "Are you… did I do something wrong?"

Still perched above her prone form, Charon slowly exhaled to calm himself. "No, you did nothing wrong," he assured her. "I do not want to take advantage of your… emotional state."

Fiona gave him a questioning look before responding. "You think I'm only asking you to do this because I'm upset about my dad?"

"Partially," he said.

Fiona was still beneath him, cradling his face, but her expression was very serious. "You said last night that I don't owe you any 'promises,' as if you expect me to just use you and walk away. And I understand why you might think that. But you're wrong. I care about you, Charon." She gently guided his head down for a searing kiss. After a moment, they broke away and Charon softly rested his forehead against hers. He released a slow breath.

"I care about you as well," he whispered, barely believing the words as they came out of his mouth. His chest felt tight and his head was swimming. Getting involved with an employer was not forbidden. It was not addressed in the contract at all. But it was, practically speaking, a huge risk. Fiona was without a doubt the best employer he'd ever had. And he did not want to jeopardize that. She also deserved much more than… him.

But before he could second guess himself any further, Fiona dragged him down for another kiss and his hesitations evaporated. Now all he could hear was her soft breathing and intermittent gasps of pleasure as his hands roamed freely across her body. One hand buried itself in her hair while the other dove underneath her shirt, urging her to help him remove it. Fiona sat up half way, their lips parting briefly, and removed the unnecessary garment.

As she laid back down, Charon stared at her breathlessly. He would never get tired of the sight of her. Lying on her back, her small breasts were lightly curved mounds and Charon immediately leaned down to give them proper attention. One hand massaged a breast while his mouth dove towards the other. He started gently, while only light pressure and gentle licking and sucking of her pert nipple. Fiona moaned, arching into him and urging him on.

Charon quickly grew beyond restraint. Loosing himself in the haze of disbelief and pleasure, he continued his ministrations. She was so soft and beautiful. He felt dizzy being this close to her. His mind was wandering everywhere at once while his hands struggled not to do the same. Charon had not given a woman pleasure in two centuries but apparently it was all coming back to him now. And he wanted to everything all at once. Like a starving man indeed…

Fiona's head was swimming. As she moaned and approved of the feelings Charon was eliciting in her, the intensity of his attention grew. She could feel him beginning to let loose, his voice growling and humming. It was insanely arousing… at first. She tried desperately to stay in the moment and not liken the sensations she was feeling to her experience with Carl in the raider's cave. She opened her eyes to confirm it was Charon on top of her. Seeing his face calmed her instantly and her arousal returned. But every time she closed here eyes a sense of wariness would descend. Her pleasured state, occasionally interrupted by stiffening muscles and held breath, did not go unnoticed.

It took Charon a few minutes to realize that something might be wrong. He was so focused, so caught up in the sounds, smells and taste of the gorgeous girl beneath him, that it wasn't until he felt her body stiffen a third or fourth time that he paused to look at her face. And he froze. _Shit._ He didn't need to ask what was wrong. He already knew. Raising his head to hers, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and caressed the side of her face with his rough palm.

Relaxed, Fiona broke their awkward silence. "I'm ok now, Charon," she reassured him. "I need to get over it. You can keep going."

Charon wanted nothing more than to take her word for it. He was in pain below the waist. He laughed internally as he sighed outwardly and laid down beside her, pulling her nearly naked form close to his and cradling her tenderly. The old him… the one with skin… would have _eagerly_ taken her word for it and continued. _Hell, _he thought,_ back then I wouldn't have stopped or anything short of a firm 'no'._ Maybe people really can change, he thought.

Sensing his wandering mind, Fiona spoke up. "You're sure you don't want to keep going?"

Chuckling, Charon replied. "Oh, I _want_ to. But, you are right. You need to go slow." He rested his chin on the top of her head as she buried her face in his bare chest. His hands massaged her back gently, as she had done for him earlier, and her body relaxed.

"And tomorrow, we will find my dad," Fiona whispered. As she fell asleep in his arms, Charon heard her sigh, "I hope he likes you."


	27. Chapter 27: Tranquilty Pain

It was dark. Charon couldn't find her in the dim light and dense fog but he knew she was close. He could hear a girl somewhere breathing heavily, but whether it was due to fear or pain he could not tell. He followed the sound as best he could, but to Charon it seemed to be coming from all directions at once. No matter which direction be moved, the fog stayed the same density and the dim light emanating from everywhere stayed static. It seemed as if he wasn't moving at all. As he began to get frustrated and panic, Charon heard the breathing change. The steady deep breaths were shorter and quicker. She was afraid. He broke into a run. The loud echo of Charon's boots pounding against hard packed dirt mingled with the frightened breaths of the girl as he searched everywhere and nowhere. Lashing out at the barely visible world with large worn hands, Charon sought her.

Suddenly, Charon realized that the sound of her breathing had stopped and he froze. Standing alone in the void, he strained to hear something. Anything. Standing still for what felt like hours, he finally heard it. Breathing. But it was lower. Gruffer. Heavy with exertion, not fear. Trying to pinpoint the direction of the noise, Charon heard something else. There was a sickly slapping sound of flesh against flesh in the same rhythm as the graveley labored breathing. Slowly, the sounds increased in volume. Growing closer. Charon stayed still as the familiarity of those sounds caused bile to rise in his throat.

Whimpering. Now he knew where he was. When he was. And as the light grew brighter through the haze and highlighted the silhouettes, Charon closed his eyes. He couldn't watch this. Not again.

* * *

He woke with a muted start, muscles twitching, then quickly relaxing as Charon took in the safety of his present surroundings. Lying in bed next to Fiona, arms wrapped around her protectively, he sighed in relief and squeezed tighter. Reflexively, she returned the gesture and curled in closer to his large frame. _It's ok,_ he reassured himself_. She's ok. And Ahzrukhal is dead. _

Charon lay awake for some time and tried to calm his mind. But every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the images. Eventually, he admitted defeat and resigned himself to watch over his employer for the remainder of the night. Shifting his body slightly, Charon pulled her left arm towards him to check the clock on her Pip Boy. It was odd to think about how long he had gone without clocks to tell the time, using only the sun and his circadian rhythm to track the passage of the hours. But as soon as the old technology was reintroduced to him he once again found himself depending too much on the pre-war tech. It wasn't something he should get used to, he realized. But in the basement of the memorial, with no windows to see the moon or stars by, it was easy to misjudge the passage of time. The clock read 3:13am. The sun would not be up for a few more hours. He let her arm fall back down and Fiona unconsciously brought her hand to Charon's hip and pulled his pelvis closer to hers. He chuckled softly under his breath.

This waking dream he'd been living lately was far preferable to the ones he found in unconsciousness. He breathed in deeply and inhaled the scent of Fiona's hair, rich with oils and dirt and something uniquely female. He was free from Ahzrukhal. His life was more his own now than it had been in centuries… or perhaps ever. Even before his "training" he had been in the military and relied on orders to structure his daily life. He sure as hell had never been told to speak freely and "be himself" by any of his commanding officers. Even then he had been bound to a contract, he thought ruefully. However, his enlistment contract was at least signed voluntarily and had an expiration date.

Charon smiled to himself as he remembered the old days. The war propaganda was doing its job domestically and naive young women always seemed to feel very "patriotic" after a few strong drinks were poured for them. It felt like a half-remembered dream as Charon thought about the scores of women he'd let "thank" him over his many years of service. Going out to bars in uniform had been a guaranteed good time, especially for a tall well-built Special Ops soldier. Laughing silently, Charon realized how _young_ he had been. He'd felt invincible, as most young men do. He had also been a bit of a player for a long time: cocky, full of empty promises and discarded phone numbers. _Douchebag_, he thought, shaking his head. It was the only word he could find that truly fit as Charon mentally assessed his younger self. But centuries of torment had, at the very least, forced him to grow up. If Charon had to find a silver lining in any of his centuries of wasteland life, it could at least be said that the harsh reality of post-apocolyptia had cured him of being a young, arrogant womanizer.

Refocusing his attention to Fiona, Charon suddenly felt very old indeed. He may still have the physique of a man in his early 30s, albeit in ghoul form, but he had several lifetimes of horrors haunting his mind. Fiona was young and sheltered. Kind and beautiful. She deserved a better man than the wasteland could provide. But until this shit hole of a world could produce someone worthy, she would at least have him.

Hours passed as he lay with her until Fiona finally began to stir around 6am. Her sleepy eyes focused on his clouded ones and Fiona smiled genuinely. Charon felt his stomach flutter, a sensation he'd forgotten about entirely until now. She was happy to wake up with him. It was surreal.

Smiling at each other, the couple rose. They ate food from their packs, and Fiona noticed that Dogmeat received more of Charon's mirelurk meat than she would have expected him to part with. Charon disarmed the traps outside their door and they decided to take advantage of the luxury of working showers while they could. This time, however, there was far less shyness when it came to undressing in the memorial basement bathroom.

Fiona slowly, teasingly, removed her grey undershirt, moaning as she stretched her arms and raised it above her head. She made a show of bending forward and sliding her dark underwear down her thighs, stepping lightly out of them and kicking them to the far wall. Despite her confident demeanor, her face was flushed bright red and she was biting her lip nervously as she approached the shower head and turned on the frigid spray. Doused in cold water, Fiona's nipples grew erect and she stretched her body. She was soon covered in goosebumps and trying to hide her shivering underneath the fall of chilly water. Staring at Charon, she motioned with her head for him to come closer.

Charon, still shirtless, slowly unbuckled his pants and kicked off his boots. Moving slowly towards her, he felt his heart pounding and heard blood rushing in his ears. He wasn't nervous. Not exactly. But he was fighting every instinct in his body to maintain control. Stepping underneath the freezing water with Fiona, Charon couldn't help but shudder as well. Fiona stepped close and pressed her chest against his. She began running a wet rag gently across his flesh to dislodge the accumulated dirt and grime from their travels. Charon closed his eyes and sighed. It felt wonderful to be touched. The cold spray hardly seemed to matter as she continued her path down his abdomen and around to his back. For the first time in a long time, Charon was actually getting clean. Typical baths in the wasteland are hurried affairs that never got half of the filth removed from his body. But as Charon saw the discolored water circling down the drain in the floor, he felt cleansed in more ways than just the superficial. As Fiona moved to his legs, and eventually finished by washing his feet, Charon was beside himself with hidden emotion.

He stared down at her affectionately and took the rag from her hands. "My turn," he whispered, barely audible beneath the spray.

* * *

The trek to Vault 112 was longer than Fiona had anticipated. Their progress across the wastes was continually impeded by yao guai, radscorpions and the occasional small group of raiders. They stayed well away from Evergreen Mills, but small scouts were spread out it seemed. _Oh well,_ Fiona thought as Charon and Dogmeat finished the last straggler who had attempted to run back towards the mills, _he won't be reporting back._ They'd been set upon by the small scouting party while she and Charon were in the middle of taking down a giant radscorpion. The cowards tried to take them out while they were distracted. Not that it worked. Dogmeat had smelled their approach and gave his people enough warning so that they were not taken by surprise. Fiona tried to hide her wide grin as Charon praised the dog.

"Good boy," Charon's low voice rumbled. "You killed the shit outta him. You're not useless like I thought, huh?" Dogmeat almost wagged himself off his feet with excitement as Fiona covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

The two males made their way back to her position and Fiona couldn't contain her smile. "And to think, you were so against taking him with us in the beginning, Charon."

"Eh," he shrugged, "I thought he would be a drain on resources. But he earns his keep so…" Charon trailed off as he made his way over the the downed radscorpion and unsheathed his combat knife. Driving it into the stinger on the end of the tail, he cracked open the exoskeleton and revealed the small poison-filled gland underneath.

"Charon…" Fiona asked, "whatcha doin'?"

As he slid the organ into a glass jar he'd taken from his pack, careful not to touch it, he sealed the lid tightly and replaced the jar. "Just doing a favor for someone," he answered vaguely.

Fiona knew she could press him for details if she wanted… but she already had an idea of what he meant to do with the poison gland and figured it was best not to know the details. Plausible deniability.

Finally, they found what they were looking for just before sunset. Smith Casey's Garage was unremarkable to say the least. An old mechanic's shop with numerous wrecked cars and a Red Rocket filling station, the old building looked the same as any other remnant of days long gone. The only indication that it had been anything other than what it seemed was the out-of-place military checkpoint just to the north. Fiona had seen several checkpoints just like it scattered around the wasteland. But those had all been in places that would have made _sense_ in the days just before the bombs. She'd seen them in areas near the National Guard, the old Armory, monuments and areas of governmental and military significance. But here, in the middle of nowhere, there had been a lone checkpoint with guards and troop transports to guard an old mechanic's shop. _They were probably here to protect Braun and whatever he was working on,_ Fiona thought. _But at least that means we're in the right place._

Entering the old shop, weapons drawn, Fiona and Charon proceeded with caution. The interior was just like anywhere else: rusted and worn out. Debris littered the floor and half-destroyed shelves lined the walls of the old shop. A counter on the far wall, where customers would have stood for service, was filthy and abandoned. Only a few mole rats wandered here now, and Dogmeat disposed of them quickly. The only light in the room came from the flickers of a dying Nuka-Cola machine and the last of the setting sun's rays filtered through the glass block window. Fiona sighed, lips drawn into a thin line, and looked around the room. It certainly didn't look like a secret vault entrance.

Charon motioned to the back workshop and she followed. Here there were a few old cars, rusted and ruined and more broken shelves. However, one thing did look out of place. Along the back wall there was a large metal panel in the floor. Turning to Charon, she smiled widely. "This has to be it," she said. Charon slapped his hand against his thigh to summon Dogmeat away from the secret entrance he was currently standing on top of and sniffing wildly. "Even Dogmeat thinks there's something down there," she said. The dog obediently trotted over to his ghoul and sat patiently while Fiona wrenched open the service panel. She took a deep breath before pulling the switch, then jerked the insulated lever down.

With a loud mechanical whirring sound, the doors retracted and revealed a long staircase leading to a dimly lit tunnel. A few more molerats came running at them, but Charon and Dogmeat made quick work of them. The trio made their way below, noticing some molerat and radroach corpses lying around that were weeks into decomposition.

"Someone was definitely here," Fiona muttered. Charon said nothing as he followed her closely through the tunnel. At the end of the steel-lined corridor was a heavy circular vault door with the numbers 112 standing out boldly. Taking a deep breath, she whispered "This is it…" and keyed in the command to open the sealed door. Thankfully, it was not password protected and the door began the unlocking sequence and drew backwards into the vault. Releasing a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, Fiona crossed the threshold into the vault, Charon and Dogmeat at her heels.

The immediate interior looked like the 101 vault entrance, with steel steps leading up to a small platform that had a control room on one side and a main door straight ahead. She had never been inside another vault before, but she'd heard tales from merchants and wanderers about other vaults scattered around the wasteland. Those vaults, they claimed, had emptied out long ago and were now ruined inside. One caravan merchant who'd been drinking inside Moriarty's had told Fiona a tale of a vault in the northeast he'd found. He claimed he'd heard _voices_ inside. "Mad howling, laughter, and everyone calling out for the same guy. 'Gary!' They kept yelling. 'Gaaaaary!' over and over. I got scared and ran. I'm man enough to admit it!" the merchant had recounted. Fiona, along with the other patrons, decided that Crazy Wolfgang _must_ truly be crazy if he was starting to believe his own tall tales.

But in Vault 112, Fiona felt a different kind of uneasiness she couldn't describe. This vault was still pristine. It was well hidden and perhaps looters and scavengers had not gotten to it like so many other unsealed vaults in the wastes. But still… something wasn't right. The klaxons had stopped blaring and now the entrance was filled with a tense silence as Charon crept ahead, searching for traps. Fiona stood in the center of the platform waiting for him to give the all clear. If there was anyone down here, surely they would have heard the door opening and come to investigate. Her stomach tightened with dread. She hoped she found some evidence of her father inside, but not his corpse.

"Clear," Charon announced, moving forward towards the main door.

Fiona followed at his side, taking position on the opposite side of the door before triggering the steel panel to open. The sound of metal sliding on metal was deafening in the tinny silence of the vault, but as the door revealed the interior of the pre-war sanctum the trio was met with only more silence. Fiona and Charon exchanged glances before nodding and proceeding further inside. They were met with more emptiness and quiet as they moved down the main hall.

"Charon," Fiona whispered, "something doesn't feel right in here."

"I agree," he replied softly.

Suddenly, they both stopped as they heard a mechanical whirring sound and a large RoboBrain unit rounded the corner. Both raised their weapons and Dogmeat crouched low and growled. But the robotic sentinel did not approach further or make any aggressive movements. They approached slowly until the unit finally spoke.

"Welcome vault resident," its voicebox emitted. "Chronometers indicate that you have arrived 202.3 years behind schedule. Please change into your Vault-Tec issued vault suit and take your place inside your assigned Tranquility Lounger. If you have misplaced your vault suit, I am authorized to issue you a new one."

Fiona's mouth hung open for several seconds while she tried to process what was just said. Finally, she turned and spoke to her companion. "Charon, it thinks I'm a vault resident here…"

"Yeah," he muttered. "But it does not seem to acknowledge me or the dog. I guess 'cause you're the only human."

Fiona's heart fell. "Charon, you're just as human as-"

"I know," he cut her off. "Just saying."

The RoboBrain remained still, seeming to await her response. "Um, yeah I think I… lost… my vault suit," Fiona spoke nervously. The machine withdrew a jumpsuit from a nearby cabinet and handed it to her with it's large steel pincers. The suit was nearly identical to her Vault 101 suit, save for the change of numbers on the back and a slightly different feel to the material. Running the material through her fingers, Fiona commented, "This suit feels different than the ones from 101. It's made of a different material I think. And it's… heavier. Hmmm."

The RoboBrain repeated itself. "Please change into your Vault-Tec issued vault suit and take your place inside your assigned Tranquility Lounger."

"It's getting impatient with me," she said.

Charon stepped around Fiona and peered down the hall. "You don't have to do what it says. Let's just… explore a little."

They continued down the main corridor, poking their heads into side rooms and checking for signs of life. Finally, they reached a large chamber in the center of the vault. Both stood breathless.

Circled around a large CPU were a dozen egg-shaped pods. And from what they could see from the elevated walkway, there appeared to be people inside of them. "Those must be the… Tranquility Loungers," Fiona said in hushed tones, as if she feared the robotic attendants might overhear her.

"Those are VR sim pods," Charon replied. "I've seen them before, even used one a few times in my… training." Fiona looked up at him questioningly. "You put on a special neural suit… I guess like that one," he pointed to the vault suit still clutched in her hands. "Then you sit in the pod and it connects to your brain. You go into a virtual reality and do whatever it is you're supposed to do. When I used them it was all combat and infiltration sims. I doubt that's what they're doing though." He nodded in the direction of the motionless vault residents.

"How is that even possible?" Fiona wondered aloud.

"I have no idea, smoothskin. I barely graduated High School," Charon emphasized. "I don't understand the science of it. Just that it works."

They made their way down to the level of the pods and Fiona slowly examined the terminals and the people housed within the glass capsules. Most of the residents had elevated heart rates and showed signs of prolonged stress. "T. Dithers," she read out loud. "This one says there's some sort of neural anomaly detected. No details though. She's more stressed than the others. Maybe that has something to do with it." As Fiona continued to explore the terminal data, something alarming occurred to her. "Charon…" she called. "There's no release option on the terminal."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, there is no option to end the simulation and wake her up. Not via the individual terminals at least." Fiona frowned deeply and furrowed her brow.

"That does not make any sense," Charon muttered. "There has to be some way for a person on the outside to wake them up…"

"Yeah," she replied. "Maybe there is an override somewhere else. Or on another terminal."

All of the vault residents in the pods looked disturbingly alike. Their heads had been shaved, perhaps necessary for the prolonged VR interface, and they lay motionless in relaxed positions. Disturbed by their half-dead appearance, Fiona stopped looking at the bodies housed in the pods and focused on the terminal information… until she came to one odd terminal entry. The pod occupant was listed as "unknown." Fiona slowly turned around and faced the adjacent pod, her eyes already welling with tears.

"Daddy!" she screamed, her high-pitched wail echoing through the chamber. Rushing to the glass container, she pounded it with her fists, her hands throbbing. Charon rushed to her side and pulled her back before she could do any damage to the pod, or to herself. He wrapped his arms around her waist protectively and held her flush against him.

"Fiona," he spoke calmly into her ear, "you need to calm down and think clearly. We found him. He is alive and he is… safe. We need to use our heads to get him out of there. We keep looking for a terminal that can open the pods, ok?"

Charon felt her relax in his arms and he slowly released Fiona. "You're right," she said. "We keep looking." She took one more long glance in the direction of her unconscious father. Sitting back in his "lounger" she could see him breathing, his facial muscles twitching slightly and his vacant eyes staring forward at a screen with an image she couldn't see clearly from outside of the pod. Placing her hand on the glass next to his face she whispered, "I'm getting you out."

Vault 112 was significantly smaller than 101. It was built to house far fewer people, she knew. However, even basic things like living quarters and recreational activity centers were absent. The more they explored, the more she realized that the residents really had intended to spend the _entire_ duration of their stay in virtual reality.

"I wonder what went wrong," Fiona mused as she gathered microfusion cells for her rifle.

"Hmmm?" Charon looked up from his search of the storage lockers.

"I mean with the pods," she clarified. "I can't believe they _intended_ to stay in virtual reality for over 200 years. The pods should have been programmed to open after a certain amount of time. But they're all still in there. Alive." Fiona took a deep breath, thinking about the implications of such prolonged inactivity. "If you can even call it that. If we did wake them up Charon… I'm not sure they'd thank us."

"Yeah, they don't look so good," he shook his head in understanding.

"They'd have severe muscle atrophy, no matter how advanced the cryo technology is. God only knows what kind of other health problems we'd be dealing with. Organ failure. Neural shock from coming out of the sim after so long…" Her face grew concerned. "I hope there's a way to open pods individually. I don't know if I'd wanna deal a dozen frightened and potentially insane people. Especially if I had to be the one to break the news about how much time has passed."

"Agreed," Charon said simply.

"But it makes me wonder," she continued, "why the hell my dad got inside one of those pods to begin with."

Charon sighed. "I was wondering that myself. His journal entry said he came here looking for that Braun guy's notes. Maybe…" Charon paused. "Maybe he didn't find them in here. So he went looking in there."

"Inside the sim?!" Fiona exclaimed in disbelief. But then, she realized Charon might have a point. "Actually, that's possible. This was supposed to be Braun's vault. Maybe he's one of those people in the pods. Although I didn't see his name on any of the terminals… Oh, hello…" Fiona trailed off as she picked up a holotape on the far table. She examined it with her Pip Boy and smiled. "Jackpot! Code for the overseer's office!"

"Overseer…?" Charon asked incredulously.

"Oh shit, I never really told you a lot about vault 'culture' did I? Well, _supposedly_ every vault has an overseer that runs things. And yeah, it's just a dictatorial as it sounds. If your overseer ends up being a paranoid nutjob like Alphonse, the guy in 101 that tried to make me dead, then you're in for a shitty life underground. Unless you manage to fight your way out, that is," she said with a sad smile. Charon stepped forward and placed hand gently on her shoulder. Fiona leaned into his touch and sighed heavily. "It's in the past," she finally said. "Now let's see what we can find in this office."

They made their way through the corridors to the locked door of the overseer's office. Sliding open for the authorization codes she entered, the door revealed a small office… with a VR sim pod inside.

"Holy shit," Fiona said to herself. "The overseer is in the virtual world with them. That's Braun. It's gotta be! Charon! _That's_ why my dad acted like a dumbass and went inside the mystery pod! He got here and realized he could do better than just scrounge for Braun's notes. He went in there to actually get to _talk_ to Braun himself!"

"That's still a huge fucking risk," Charon said, voice heavy with concern. "Wouldn't he have been worried about _why_ the pods were still sealed? Wouldn't he have been worried about getting trapped in there himself?"

Fiona deflated a bit. "He's… he's a smart guy. I'm sure he thought of that. I guess… I guess he thought it was worth the risk? I suppose he's willing to give up everything for Project Purity." She hung her head a bit and remembered waking up in 101, Amata shoving a 10mm pistol into her hand and fighting for her life. "He was willing give up his daughter. So why not risk his own life?" Before she could slide into further self-pity, Fiona felt strong arms encircle her and hug tight. She hugged back desperately.

Charon stroked his large hands up and down Fiona's back in a soothing motion. As he felt her relax, Charon grew bold and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Stroking her cheek with his weathered hand he whispered, "We will get him out. And once he is conscious and recovered… I will kick his ass for you. Sound good?"

Fiona couldn't help but laugh, and she buried her face in his hard chest. "Yeah," she said, her voice muffled. "That sounds good."

The search of Braun's office was fruitless. There was no override terminal. Nor were there any scientific notes or manuals of any kind. There was nothing to elaborate on the VR pods or even his G.E.C.K. research. Frustrated, Fiona paced the small office. "The entire reason my dad came down here was for information on the Garden of Eden Creation Kit so he could make his damn purifier work. And there's nothing. Not a single research note. He must have been desperate for information. But…" she trailed off. "Reckless. So _fucking_ reckless I can't even believe it."

She stormed back to the main room housing the VR pods. Another cursory view of the terminals showed the residents were still under stress, her father included. Storming over to his pod, Fiona stared angrily at the unconscious man inside. "Ass!" she screamed. "You colossal fucking idiot! Your precious purifier will stay nonfunctional **forever** with you trapped in virtual wonderland! And you came here _alone?!_"

Charon stood off to the side, unsure how to respond. However, when Fiona began stripping off her leather armor and sliding on the Vault 112 jumpsuit, his heart fell. "You cannot possibly be considering…" he trailed off, already knowing the answer. Fiona was fairly reasonable most of the time. But she did have a hot streak. Charon's heart felt hard and heavy and his head ached with anxiety. Fiona finished zipping up the new vault suit and slowly made her way towards Charon.

"Let me go instead," he pleaded softly. "I have navigated simulations before. You have no idea what you will find in there. It is my duty to protect you and… I _want_ to protect you, Fiona." He stepped forward, timidly reaching a hand to her face. Fiona leaned into his hand and took a shaky breath.

"Charon," she replied calmly, "it needs to be me." Her mouth twitched upwards in a smirk. "The suit won't fit you, big guy."

"Then we will find one that will," he said firmly. "We have no idea what type of sim is running in there. It could _be_ a combat simulation for all we know."

"If it was World War III in there, I have a feeling most of those people would be dead, Charon," she said teasingly.

"No," he corrected. "When you die in a simulation, there are safeties in place. The sim reloads."

Fiona thought carefully about her next rebuttal. "Based on their vitals, they are not in combat. They all have elevated heart rates and blood pressure, yes. But, their respiration rates are not indicative of heavy physical exertion." Charon cocked his head. "Based on the readouts, it seems like they are all just standing around… but stressed. Maybe they're stuck in a never ending board meeting or something. I don't know. But even 'T. Dithers' over there, who's the most stressed of all, is only taking five breaths per minute. She's not running for her life. But she is scared. I need to find out why."

"Then let _me_ find out why!" Charon yelled. His eyes were pleading. "Let someone else find out why. Fiona, we have time. These people have been in there for 200 years. Your father has only been in there for a few weeks. We can find some other way to get him out. He's… not going anywhere."

"No," Fiona spat. "Waiting is what got him into this mess. Maybe if I'd kept on his trail I'd have found him before he even stepped into that pod. No more waiting. And yes, it has to be me. He doesn't know you. He might not trust you enough to listen to you in… whatever hell on earth he might be trapped in. He will know me. He _will_ listen to me."

She stepped confidently to an empty pod and stared at the lounge chair inside. Charon placed a large hand on her shoulder as she hesitated. Growing bold, he spun her around. "What happens to me if you never come back?!" he yelled in her face. "Your father left you in that vault without considering the consequences of his actions. You are doing the same to me."

The words struck her like a sucker punch. Fiona looked up at Charon's face. His clouded blue eyes stared deeply into her and she wanted nothing more than to stay with him. Months ago, the face of a ghoul would have disturbed her. Frightened her. But now, Charon's gruesome visage was her rock in this tumultuous wasteland. He was her best friend, without a doubt. He was more than that…

Swallowing her emotions for a moment, Fiona reached up to Charon's face and caressed his strong jaw, patches of missing skin and all. "Remember a few weeks back when you talked about outliving me?" she asked him quietly.

"I never meant…" Charon hesitated. "Not like this. Not this soon."

"I know," Fiona smiled. "And I promise I will do everything I can to come back to you. But just in case, I want you to know that I did take what you said to heart. That night after you stormed off, I stayed up and I wrote a Will."

"What?!" Charon took a step back in shock.

Undeterred, Fiona stepped forward. "I figure as long as I am alive in this pod, I am still your employer, right?"

Charon, his mouth hanging open, nodded in the affirmative.

"Ok then. So… if this doesn't go as planned, I stay alive in there for a few centuries. I am still your employer as long as I'm breathing _but_ you can live your own life. Your standing orders… just in case I can't get out… are to make your own decisions and be happy." She pulled his face down to hers and planted a small kiss on his lips. "Your contract is in the safe at the house just in case I… die. But my Will is in there too. And I spent hours writing it and I'm glad I thought to include a clause about me being in a coma or otherwise 'indisposed' state. I guess this would be along those lines," Fiona said sadly. "It says that if I die, _or_ if I am trapped in some sort of unconscious but living state… _everything_ is yours. The house, all my stuff, my caps. The deed to the house is in there with the other documents too. If anyone tries to fight it, get the Church of Atom weirdos to help you. They're crazy but influential. And Simms should hopefully back you up. So, you can stay in Megaton and you'll be taken care of. If you want, that is." She bit her lip, then continued. "You don't have to stay there. I just wanted you to be taken care of if anything happened to me. Not that I expected to be doing anything like this… ever." She laughed to herself. "I mean, you know, at least _try_ to get me out of the simulation if I can't do it on my own-"

"Of course I will!" Charon shouted, surprised at the emotion in his own voice. "I do not even want you to go in there. I don't want to… _Please_, Fiona. Don't."

"Charon," she whispered. "I care about you so much. I don't want to take this risk either. But I have to. I-" Fiona hesitated. She wanted to say so many things. She wanted to pour her heart out and wax poetic about her budding feelings for her best friend and bodyguard. But for some reason, the words would not form on her tongue. _It would be cruel,_ she decided, _ to say those things and then leave. When I come back, I'll tell him then. _

Fiona reached up to Charon's face and pulled him down for a searing kiss. Taken by surprise at first, the ghoul quickly adapted and returned her passion twice over. Pushing her against a nearby wall, Charon never wanted to let her go. One hand threaded into her hair, the other grabbed her rear and hoisted her upwards. Fiona wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed tightly, the urge to stay with him growing with every moment.

Charon moved his lips to her neck and ear, nipping and sucking furiously. Fiona's eyes rolled backwards as bolts of pleasure shot through her nervous system. For a moment, she considered shrugging off her sense of responsibility to her father in favor of staying pinned against the wall forever. If only Charon would keep finding those spots on her neck and behind her ear… _Which is exactly what he's trying to get me to do,_ she realized. Sighing, Fiona pulled back to look into his eyes. They were pleading more emotionally than words ever could.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Resigned, he lowered her gently to the floor and followed her to the pod. She climbed slowly up to the lounger and turned her head to smile down at Charon. "I'll try not to take too long," she said with forced levity.

Charon watched with restrained panic as the pod closed around the woman he cared about and her eyes went blank.


	28. Chapter 28: The Rules

Fiona felt a cold chill creeping up her spine as her her vision blurred and readjusted. When she had finally regained her senses she could scarcely believe her eyes. She was standing in the middle of a pre-war neighborhood complete with parked family cars and strolling residents. All of the houses were of a similar pre-war style with two stories on a even rectangular frame. _Well,_ Fiona thought to herself, _at least it's not a combat sim. Still doesn't explain why people are stressed. They look fine._

She took a nervous step forward towards a bench where an older man was seated. However, Fiona immediately noticed something was wrong with her stride. It was… short. Staring down in horror, she saw that she now resembled a child clad in a cute pink dress. Glancing to her Pip Boy, she was met instead by the rotating hands of a child's watch. _The sim took my Pip Boy… NOT cool._ Fiona took another moment to assess her surroundings, given the changes she had undergone. No one appeared to be in fear of anything. However, as she continued to take stock of things, Fiona noticed something eerie.

The neighborhood was circular, a _cul de sac_ they had been called. But unlike normal streets, there was no outlet. There was simply a circular paved avenue lined with houses and nothing else. And the dead center of the simulation there was small playground.

Despite the smiling faces and relaxed demeanor of the people she observed, Fiona felt very ill at ease. Several townspeople passed by, smiling and waving, as if a brand new person had not just entered their world. She certainly did not want to be the one to break the news about the centuries of cryogenic stasis that they appeared to be unaware of. Perhaps they did not sense the passage of time normally while in the sim. The thought made Fiona uneasy and she wondered how her own sense of time might be affected.

She scanned the faces of everyone on the street, but saw no trace of her father. It was possible, she realized, that his appearance had been altered inside the simulation as well. Fiona felt more uneasy in this seemingly safe pre-war paradise than she had in even the roughest areas of the wasteland as she timidly approached the man on the bench.

"Excuse me," she began, trying her best to seem polite and harmless. "I'm looking for my father. His name is James. James Lin. Have you seen him?"

The man didn't miss a beat, and turned a smiling face to her. "Well hello, young lady. Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name. Is he new to the neighborhood? We all know each other here."

"Um…" Fiona fumbled with what to say. Was he even aware that this neighborhood wasn't real?

"Oh! But how rude of me! My name is Bill. Bill Foster," he said cheerily. "I hope you and your pop come by for the neighborhood pot luck dinner sometime. Mabel Henderson makes the _best_ meat pies you could ever imagine."

"Yeah, that sounds… good." Fiona hesitated, unsure how to even ask her next question. "So, you've lived here a long time, huh? How long?"

"Well, gosh. I'm not sure. A uh, a long time for sure." Mr. Foster answered with only a slight waver in his voice. "Years and years…" Fiona saw the split second of uneasiness in his eyes as his mind searched for a precise number but found only vague answers and fuzziness. Snapping back into focus, he continued. "But Tranquility Lane is the best place in the world to live anyway, so anything from before then just seems easy to forget by comparison I suppose," he laughed.

"Yeah," Fiona said, looking around at other happy residents walking by. "It's even nicer than Andale…" She thought for a moment and continued. "Are there any other new residents here? You haven't met my dad yet, but maybe there's someone else here who just… moved in?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope," Mr. Foster replied. "No one new but you and that dad you mentioned. But hey, I'm sure you'll find him. In the meantime why don't you go play with Betty? She's at the playground right across the street and I'm sure she'd like to make a new friend." He looked overly eager for Fiona to accept the 'play date', so she nodded.

"Ok, sure I'll go play then," Fiona said, attempting to sound convincing. This place was getting creepier by the moment. She continued to wander the streets and ask residents about the whereabouts of her father or any newcomers to the simulation… correction- neighborhood. Fiona got the same answer from everyone. There were no new residents, though no one seemed at all surprised to see her there, and they all told her not to worry and to go play with Betty. So by the time she approached a frazzled looking old woman, Fiona was prepared for exactly the same series of interactions. But she was pleasantly surprised instead.

"You!" the old woman exclaimed. "You don't belong here." Fiona stopped and stared nervously. Maybe she had finally found one person who knew what was real. "We're not really here. We're not really talking. It's all made-up, make-believe. We're sleeping, dreaming. The dream became a nightmare. It has to end."

_And she's been driven insane._

* * *

Charon had been pacing for hours. This felt like a bad dream. Fiona had locked herself in a fucking death pod and ordered him to "make his own decisions and be happy" if she didn't make it out. His heart was pounding angrily in his chest as he fought the urge to laugh hysterically. This was insane. He'd been so shocked and confused about her decision to take on this risk herself, he'd been unable to think of a way to delay her. The only thing he was able to do in his moment of panic had been to act on his own sense of physical desperation. It had worked for a few precious minutes, but ultimately Fiona had gone.

He continued to pace.

* * *

Once Fiona had calmed down the old woman, Ms. Dithers seemed far more sane. _I suppose being the only one who knows your world isn't real does a number on your sanity,_ Fiona thought. She was frustrated and anxious inside the simulation and she'd only been there a few hours… as far as she knew. Apparently, time was easily lost in here.

"So," Ms. Dithers began nervously, seated primly on the sofa in her living room, "I'm not alone. Finally, someone else sees through all of this." Tears welled up in her eyes. "I knew I wasn't insane but everyone else said… I was really starting to think perhaps I was demented."

"No, you're not insane ma'am." Fiona sat gingerly beside her. "But can you tell me what's going on in here? Have there been any other new people inside the simulation recently? I'm looking for my father."

"I haven't seen anyone new other than you, dear. Although he adds new scenery and animals from time to time. But no new people," she said.

"He?" Fiona asked.

"Braun," Ms. Dithers spat out. "That sadist." She looked exhausted as she began to recount her "life" in the simulation. "I have no idea how long it has been. I know everyone was terrified about the bombs and we were all so excited to get the chance to ride out the end of the world in ignorant bliss. I don't know how many times he's tortured us, killed us, then reset the simulation and started all over again. No one else ever remembers what happened. They just… reload. And then they are happy and smiling again. Except for me. I remember. I wish I could forget."

Fiona sat still in horror. "He tortures and kills everybody?" Her heart began to sink, fearing the worst about her father and fearing for herself.

"Eventually, yes. Sometimes he's very upfront about it. Other times it's just a series of accidents. It's the psychological tortures that are the worst. Making people turn on each other. Driving friendships and relationships apart. He… we…" Her tears were flowing freely now. "You have to stop him. While you still have your mind in tact. He took a new form a while back. Not sure how long ago. But he's walking around as another little little girl. I thought perhaps you might be some new version of Betty when I saw you… until I saw your eyes." Dithers smiled at Fiona. "There's no evil in your eyes, dear. I can always see the truth in a person's eyes. Everyone here is nervous. Some are actually scared. I can see it in their eyes too. But they are under his control, so they don't even realize why it is they're anxious. They just live everyday with a sense that something isn't right but they can't pinpoint it. But maybe you can help us."

"I will, I promise," Fiona assured her. "But I have to find my father too." Fiona said, rising from the sofa.

"Dear," Dithers called out to her. "Did it ever… the bombs…"

Fiona sat back down. "If you really want to know," she hesitated. "Yes. They fell. But that was… a very long time ago."

"It feels like I've been in here for decades," Ms. Dithers sobbed. "It has been that long then? Decades that he's been toying with us?"

Fiona's face fell and grew white. "Longer," she whispered.

Ms. Dithers began to cry openly. "We can't get thawed out anymore can we? I know that after too long it's not safe to-" She stopped herself. Then she seemed to reach a decision. "Very well then. If that's the case then I know what you need to do."

Fiona sat up straight. "What are you talking about?"

"There is an abandoned house…"

* * *

Fiona had wandered the abandoned house for over an hour but still could not find the fail-safe terminal that Ms. Dithers was convinced Braun had hidden inside. _Maybe the old lady is wrong,_ she thought to herself. But the oddly run down house among the pristine circle of its pre-war clones was just too strange. There had to be something worthwhile inside if she'd seen Betty, or rather Braun, coming in here. But Fiona found nothing but old junk and turned over furniture in the dark abode.

Fiona sank against a dirty wall and slumped to the floor. She had taken an insane risk coming in here. Maybe Charon had been right. She should have waited. They could have searched the vault some more or found a tech expert in the wastes to help them. The thought of being stuck in here forever, being randomly tortured and killed, and still with no trace of her father, began to eat away at her resolve. She had acted like an impulsive child by taking on this task.

And Charon. Poor Charon. Who knows how long he would stay in the vault, waiting outside of her pod. She knew he'd try everything he could to get her out. But what if it wasn't possible? She'd abandoned him. Fiona felt every bit as selfish as her father. Thinking about the two most important people in her life, she pulled herself together and stood up. Finally, Fiona sighed and headed towards the playground.

The area was small, hosting play items she'd only seen in holodisks. She recognized a swing set and a slide. There were also some sort of bars raised parallel to the ground for climbing and a circular rotating device she wasn't sure about. And in the center of the playground, a small blonde-haired child was waiting for her. Fiona immediately felt uneasy around the little girl. Even without knowing that things here were not what they seemed, the child carried herself far too confidently to be a little girl.

"Oh goodie!" she exclaimed in a small female voice. "A new friend to play with!"

Fiona narrowed her eyes. She had very little patience for games now. She stormed up to Betty and crossed her arms in a huff. "Hello, Dr. Braun." Fiona let the silence linger for a moment before continuing. "I know who you are. You know who I am. Let's cut the shit and talk. Tell me where I can find James Lin."

The little blonde girl gasped dramatically. "Ohhhhh, you said a bad wooooord!"

Fiona clenched her jaw. "Listen, bitch. You don't even look like a real little girl. You're wearing _thick_ _black eyeliner_ that makes you look like a whore. So just tell me where my father is before I flatten you!" Fiona was momentarily surprised at her outburst. She had not planned on acting so… aggressive.

"More naughty words!" Betty exclaimed with a smirk. "Miiiiiiister Neusbaaaaaaum!" she screamed shrilly. A bald man in a sweater vest ran over at the child's behest.

"What seems to be the problem, Betty?" he asked, worry painting his face.

"Mr. Neusbaum, the new girl called me bad names and hurt my feelings!" Betty said, feigning sniffles. "She called be a … a… B-I-C-H and a H-O-R-E, Mr. Neusbaum!"

Fiona stared in mock indignation as Betty feigned youthful innocence. Mr. Neusbaum turned to Fiona and squatted down to be at her eye level. "Is that true young lady? Did you call Betty those bad names?" he asked, his face deep red with anger.

Fiona instinctively took a step back. "I uh, no. I don't know what she even spelled. I don't know what those words mean."

"She's lying, Mr. Neusbaum," Betty whispered eerily. The man turned to face her and their eyes met for a moment. She repeated herself more sternly this time. "She is lying to you. She's a potty mouth and a liar. And she _needs_ to be punished."

The man turned back to face Fiona, his expression set in a stern frown. "You _are_ lying," he said firmly. "I know Betty wouldn't make those words up. And little girls like you shouldn't lie or say such naughty words." Before she could react, the stranger grabbed Fiona by the arm and jerked her forward. Stumbling, Fiona tripped over her own two feet and fell. But she was caught by the wrist before she could hit the grass, and was forced over the older man's knee. "Naughty little girls get punished," he said, raising his hand above her backside.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Fiona yelled just before the hand came down.

A loud cracking sound echoed inexplicably loudly across the landscape, followed by another, and another. Fiona gritted her teeth and forced herself not to scream out. If she had survived the horrors of the wasteland, she was not going to cry from a simple spanking. But the stranger was spanking her with gusto. He only struck her five times but Fiona had never felt so painfully humiliated in all her life. When he was finished, Mr. Neusbaum gently lifted her to her feet, then affectionately ruffled her hair. "Ok little one," he said softly. "Hopefully you've learned your lesson about using naughty words." And as quickly as he had appeared, he left.

Fiona stood on shaky legs and stared in disbelief at Betty. The other girl smirked at her sinisterly and crossed her arms. Speaking again, this time the girl's voice was that of an older man with a thick German accent. "You are in my world now, little girl. And here, we play by my rules. Ya?"

Fiona narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw. "Ya," she answered caustically. "I get it." The two girls stared each other down for a moment until they were interrupted by a low growling sound. Fiona turned around and saw something shocking. "Dogmeat?!" she exclaimed and ran over to the agitated animal. He was staring intently at Betty and obviously was not fond of the child. "What the hell is my dog doing here?!" she yelled at the blonde mirage.

"You're wrong," she answered, once again in a child's voice. "That's _my_ dog, Doc. Any resemblance to yours is puuuuure coincidence." The animal took a step backwards as Betty approached. "Be a good boy now," she said to the animal. "Or you'll be punished too." Turning her gaze back to Fiona, Betty continued. "Now, I believe you want something from me? You wanted to know where to find James Lin? Your father?" Fiona felt the hackles on the dog begin to rise and her stomach dropped in realization. "Well, I can help you find him and even let you both out of here… but first…" her smile widened wickedly, "you have to do a few things for me."

"Do I get to spank Mr. Neusbaum?" Fiona asked sarcastically.

Betty let out a shrill laugh. "That _would_ be funny! But no. I have a few things in mind already. We'll start out with an easy one. The first thing you have to do is… make Timmy Neusbaum cry."

Fiona stared for a few moments before asking, "What? That wimpy kid I talked to earlier? That's it?"

"I said I'd start you off with something easy. So… get to it! Go make him cry. Then come back here for your next assignment." The look on Betty's face was pure evil. Fiona had no doubt that the "assignments" were going to become increasingly dark.

As she walked to the edge of the park, Doc followed. But as soon as he reached the edge of grass, he stopped short. Fiona turned around and gently petted him. "You can't leave the park?" she asked him, a feeling of dreaded knowing in her gut. The dog huffed sadly and Fiona reached out to reassuringly stroke his fur. She met the animal's eyes and sighed. "We have a lot we need to talk about. But it can wait until we get out of here. And we _will_ get out of here." Fiona turned and continued across the street towards the little boy known as Timmy, hearing "Doc" whining behind her.

Timmy was bent over, tying his shoelaces when Fiona approached him from behind. She took a deep breath and tapped him on the shoulder, startling the young boy. Wanting to get this over with, Fiona cut to the quick. "Your dad hates you." Timmy stared at her with a questioning look on his young face. Elaborating, Fiona continued. "Turns out he isn't even your dad. Your mom used to be a huge slut and got knocked up by somebody else. Your dad just found out you're not his. He's going to leave your mom and you. He said it makes sense on account of you're so weak and girly. He said no son of his would ever be such a huge disappointment. He's planning on leaving in the middle of the night. You might wanna say goodbye."

Fiona was shocked at how easily the sick lies flowed out of her. She knew she had to go for the most offensive and shocking statements right away, so as to get this ordeal over with quickly. But she was ashamed at how easily she came up with the scenario and how she was able to justify her actions to herself. Timmy ran away in tears, whether from shock at her statements of true belief in them she wasn't sure, and Fiona returned to the playground.

"Done," she said, her jaw locked as she stared down a rather shocked looking Betty. "That boy won't stop crying for an hour."

Betty merely stood staring at her, until her smile finally cracked and she began laughing. In Braun's adult voice, she said "That was _quite_ unexpected. I thought you might punch him or make fun of him. But you did not disappoint. You are quite the sick one, yes? I am going to like playing with you."

Fiona took a daring step forward and invaded Betty's personal space. "I did what you asked," she said sternly.

"Yes, indeed you did," said the male voice from the young girl. "However, your next tasks will take more finesse than the last. The next thing you must do for me is to break up the Rockwell's marriage."

"What?" Fiona asked, confused. "Why?"

"Because it will amuse me," the girl spoke in a child's voice again. "Now, go on. You have a job to do. But you have to make it believable. They won't just break apart because you throw some lies at them. You must make them believe whatever you tell them."

"Fine," Fiona said. "Just… give me some time to think." She stormed away and sat at the edge of the playground, staring once again at the abandoned house. _I had to have missed something inside. If I keep doing these "assignments" for the psycho she'll have me molesting children or killing people by the time it's over. And that's assuming it'll ever be over. Maybe she goes back on her word and keeps me here forever. _Her thoughts were interrupted by Doc as he came to sit beside her and gave her what she assumed was a worried look.

"Don't look at me like that," Fiona said with frustration heavy in her voice. "I'm going to try to get us out of here without doing that bitch too many favors. But I need to buy some time to think." She sighed and put her head in her hands, her thoughts flashing to Charon. "I cannot believe you just jumped into that pod on your own, you idiot," she scolded the dog. "And I can't believe I jumped in after you." The dog just continued to stare at her, but hung its head in an approximation of shame.

"You should be sorry," she said sternly. "Leaving me in that vault by myself. Do you have any idea what happened when you left? Do you know what I had to go through just to survive escaping the vault, much less the rude awakening I had on the surface? I've almost died more times than I can count and if it wasn't for Charon those close calls would have been the death of me." Doc cocked his in question. "You'll get to meet him," she said softly. "He's a… a guy I met a while back. He's been protecting me and helping me learn how to survive in the wasteland. " Fiona sighed deeply again. "Gotta get back to the real world… Though it is nice talking to you when you can't really talk back, dad," she laughed. "Nothing here is what it seems, huh?"

And then it hit her. "Nothing here _is_ what is seems. Holy shit. I was looking for a actual terminal but who knows what it's disguised as!" Fiona jumped up and ran across the street to the abandoned house once again.


	29. Chapter 29: Family Reunion

Charon was worried sick the moment Fiona had disappeared into the simulation and with each passing hour his anxiety grew exponentially. Now, after two days, he was a walking wreck of a man. His skinless eye lids felt like lead and his head was light from hunger and dehydration. Charon had plenty of provisions but had not touched his pack, nor had he slept. During his days with Ahzrukhal he had grown accustomed to going long periods of time without sleep but this stint was unusually difficult because he had spent the entire time agitated and pacing. He had no idea how long he should wait for Fiona to break free from the simulation on her own before seeking help. Charon had no idea who to even seek out, aside from that asshole Pinkerton. But making the trip back to Rivet City would leave Fiona's pod unprotected. What if the vault was discovered while he was gone? What if she had a medical emergency and required CPR? What if she woke and found herself abandoned by him? Each scenario caused Charon more stress and contributed to more pacing.

Dogmeat was not faring much better. He had picked up on the ghoul's anxiety was following him around, his tail hanging low and eyes darting around in search of the apparent threat that was concerning the large man. Charon was still aware enough to provide the animal with food and water but had not been willing to leave Fiona's pod for more than a minute at a time. Therefore, Dogmeat had found a nice storage room to relieve himself in these last few days and Charon, not having consumed anything, had only needed to find a restroom once. On more than one occasion, Charon's pacing took him over to James' pod. He couldn't help but scowl at the unconscious man. _If anything happens to her in there, I blame you,_ he thought.

Suddenly, Charon's pensive thoughts were interrupted by a loud beeping sound. Unmistakably some sort of medical alarm, he rushed over to Fiona's pod. Her vitals were elevated but stable. He rushed over to James' terminal and he showed similar readouts. Racing to the terminal of another resident, he saw the problem.

**DISPLAY RESIDENT STATUS**

Pulse: 0 bpm

BP: 000/00 mmHg

Temp: 85 F

Respiratory Rate 0/min

***RESIDENT REQUIRES IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION***

**DISPLAY RESIDENT STRESS LEVEL**

Stress Level: No Reading

***RESIDENT REQUIRES IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION***

"Shit," he said aloud. Something was killing the people in the simulation. While Fiona and her father were still alive, Charon was not willing to take the chance that whatever it was would get to them as well. He searched frantically around the room for something heavy. Remembering a metal table in one of the nearby storage rooms, Charon ran at full speed. Driven by fear and adrenaline, he practically slid into the room and flipped the table onto its side in one smooth motion. Grabbing one long cylindrical leg, he snapped it free from the hinges that secured it to the underside of the frame. Armed with his new tool, Charon sped back to the center room.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. Charon had no idea what breaking the pod open would do. He risked killing her. But he also saw the life signs on the surrounding pods flickering off one by one and was equally afraid of what his inaction would accomplish. Charon was so preoccupied with his indecision, metal rod raised high above his head, that he did not hear the faint hissing sound of a pod behind him opening. Reaching a decision, Charon knew he had to try to break her out.

He steeled himself as his arms reared back and he hit the pod with all the force he could muster. The sound of metal on glass was louder than he had imagined. However, the pod did not crack. Angered, Charon tried again. And again. The metal rod rising well over his seven foot frame and descending with all the power the ghoul had, the glass eventually began to display tiny web-like fractures. _Finally,_ he thought as he continued to use every ounce strength to destroy the pod. The next blow created more tiny fractures. Charon began to focus on the weakest looking spot as yet another pod signaled the death of its occupant. Growing frantic, he knew he had to hurry.

Just when Charon thought he was a few few blows away from freeing Fiona, the bar raised above his head was snatched away. Turning towards the source of the intrusion, Charon was met with an unexpected uppercut to the jaw. He stumbled backwards and gripped his face, more out of shock than pain. He turned to face his attacker. James. The small man with greying hair at his temples looked furious.

In an instant, Charon pieced together what was happening. Emerging from his pod, James had woken to see a massive ghoul attacking his daughter's stasis pod with a metal bar. It would have looked bad to anyone. And while he couldn't blame the man for leaping to his unconscious daughter's defense, Charon also knew he had to calm James down. Quickly. Shooting the man was not an option, despite Charon's well-honed instincts that screamed for his shotgun. But before he could utter a single raspy word of reassurance, Charon had to leap backwards once more to avoid a blow to the side of the head from the snapped table leg James was now wielding.

"Get away from her!" James shouted, his eyes wide with fury and confusion.

Charon, now a safe distance from the arc of James' swing, held his hands up and palms out, in a sign of surrender. However, Dogmeat had come running over to the men by now and bravely placed himself between the two, teeth bared menacingly at James. The older man seemed to be taken aback by the dog for a moment and lowered the metal bar just long enough for Charon to jump forward. Charon twisted James' wrist and applied just enough pressure to force him to drop the bar, but not enough to break anything. However, James was more capable in a fight than Charon expected. The older man lashed out with an unusually strong kick behind Charon's knee, causing the ghoul to momentarily loose balance and drop. James spun free of Charon's grip and made a grab for the makeshift weapon once again. But his movement was cut short when Dogmeat lunged for his face.

Charon sped over to separate James from his weapon and to keep Dogmeat from attacking when he heard a hiss from Fiona's pod. All three of them paused at the sound. Heart in his throat, Charon rushed to her side. He reached inside the opening pod and cradled Fiona gently as she regained consciousness.

James heard the opening of her pod as well and reached for the heavy bar, but was stopped by the snapping canine. He backed away slowly, keeping an eye on the dog and another on the massive ghoul reaching into his daughter's pod. But when he saw how gently the man picked her up and the care with which he held her, James relaxed his stance. Whoever the ghoul was, he didn't seem to mean his daughter any harm.

Fiona slowly woke from the nightmare of Tranquility Lane. The last thing she remembered was triggering the the fail-safe protocols and making a mad dash for the emergency exit. As she fled past angry Chinese soldiers gunning down frightened residents, she caught a glimpse of Old Lady Dithers standing in her front yard. She couldn't be sure, but Fiona thought she saw the old woman mouthing the words 'thank you' as an infantry soldier ran up to her and shot her down.

Braun deserved his fate and more. He would be trapped inside his simulations forever. Alone. But the overwhelming guilt of killing nearly a dozen people, act of mercy or not, would haunt her for a very long time. Fiona had no illusions about that.

As her vision cleared and the chill in her bones subsided, she was greeted by the worried eyes of her stalwart ghoul companion. Smiling wide, Fiona reached a hand up to cup his face. "Hey you," she whispered, the exhaustion in her voice evident.

He cradled her tenderly in his arms. "Hey you, too." Charon fought for something else to say. Perhaps something witty. A joke? An annoyed quip about her timing? A whispered endearment? But nothing came. All he could do was bask in the relief that she was alive and with him once more.

"Fiona?" a worried voice questioned.

Snapping her head back to trace the source, Fiona met the eyes of her worried father. Charon slowly lowered her to the ground, her booted feet hitting the concrete floor with a thud as she walked purposefully to the older man. "Daddy," she said breathlessly, unsure if she she hug him or hit him. Reaching a decision, she extended her arms and returned the embrace being offered by her father. The anger and resentment she'd been carrying momentarily dissipated while she basked in the simple reassurance that he was still alive. James held her tight and exhaled slowly.

"Fiona, I'm so glad to see you," he began as he drew back from their hug. "But I'm also very confused. What are you doing out here? You were supposed to stay in Vault 101 where it is safe."

And that was all it took to open the dam of emotion she'd been holding back. "Safe?" she asked. "Safe?!" James took a step back at the angry tone his daughter had taken. "When you left all hell broke loose! Alphonse lost his mother fucking mind and declared martial law. They beat Jonas to death, dad. To death! All because they wanted to know how you got out. They came after me too. I had to shoot my way out. It was kill or be killed and all within hours of you leaving me in the nice 'safe' vault." James stepped forward and tried to speak but Fiona cut him off.

"No! I'm not finished!" she exclaimed. "I stumbled onto the surface and fended for myself surviving however I could. I have been lied to, manipulated, shot at and nearly gang raped… _because_ of you. Because you didn't think things through when you left me alone, without a word, locked in a hole in the ground filled with crazy people. You abandoned Project Purity to raise me and then you turned around and abandoned me for Project Purity. Is there some kind of wasteland law that says you can't have both? Because as angry as I am, I do understand why you left. Project Purity could change the world. Given that, you should have gotten back out here sooner. You shouldn't have left it in the first fucking place."

James stood stunned listening to his daughter's angry accusations. However, he was not the type to stay silent for long. "Darling," he began softly. "I had no idea that things were going to turn out the way they did. And I am sorry. I feel utterly sick. I only ever wanted to protect you and keep you safe. I don't know what you have had to do to survive thus far," he cast an accusing glare towards Charon, "but I swear to you I only wanted what was best. And now that I'm here I can make it up to you. I swear, Fiona."

"Make it up to me?" she asked sarcastically. "Like how? And for your information, life's been hard up here _but_ I've survived. I own a house in Megaton and earn a decent living scaving what I can with Charon," she said, nodding her head in the ghoul's direction. "Most of the life-risking things I've had to do have been while I was searching for _you_," she said.

"Fiona, there's nothing I can say to make any of this better. I know that." James seemed truly remorseful. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." His eyes were glassy with tears and Fiona's rage deflated.

"Dad," she said softly, "I'm just glad you're alive."

Charon felt horribly awkward during this father-daughter moment. He stood stoically behind Fiona as she and James shifted back and forth between having a heartfelt reunion and a defensive argument. Finally, Fiona seemed to tire of the arguing. Remembering his presence, she began the nervous introduction.

"Oh, um. Anyway, daddy. This is Charon," she said, blushing slightly and motioning for the ghoul to step to her side. He did as she requested and nodded his head in acknowledgment towards the older man who'd attacked him only minutes ago. "We've been traveling together for a little while now and he's taught me a lot about how to survive up here." Her father's suspicious glances and cold demeanor were not lost on Fiona. "He's a good person, dad. You can trust him."

Reluctantly stepping forward, James extended his hand. "Very well then. It's good to meet you… Charon."

Charon simply nodded and shook James' extended hand, a bit surprised that the man was willing to touch him. There was a small piece of Charon's male pride that was wounded by Fiona's platonic introduction. He had no illusions about the long-term viability of whatever it was that was developing between them. He reminded himself harshly of that reality. He was a ghoul. And as long as he was still controlled by his contract and the Institute's brain-fuck technology, he was also a slave. He knew he wasn't her "boyfriend" and Charon chastised himself for even getting his hopes up for any sort of acknowledgment of what was going on between them. He would certainly never want to endanger her or make her a target for bigots by letting anyone know that they were becoming… close. Were he a truly good person, he would put a stop to it entirely. But instead, he stood silently brooding as Fiona continued.

"So, you were in that pod for… I'm thinking a few weeks, dad. Do you feel ok? You're probably hungry or thirsty or… whatever," she rambled.

"Weeks?" he asked, startled. "I figured it had been a few days certainly. But it didn't seem _that_ long! Perhaps time passes differently in stasis."

"Oh shit. Now that I think about it… Charon, how long was _I_ in there?" she asked.

"A little over two days," Charon responded, his own exhaustion beginning to set in.

"Seriously?!" she exclaimed, face full of shock. "Wow, it did not feel like two days. Half a day, maybe." Forgetting her fathers presence for the moment, she stepped towards the ghoul. "I'm sorry, Charon. I know it was stupid to go in there. As soon as I realized what a trap it was I started kicking myself. It was really selfish to leave like that. Are you mad?"

Charon smirked sadly. Shaking his head, "Just tired after two days of pacing around."

She coughed out a short laugh. "Oh come on, you didn't pace the whole… time…" she slowed her speech as realization dawned on her. He probably _had_. Saving face in front of her father, she glanced at her Pip Boy to check the time. It was late and the sun was already down. There was no point in traveling tonight.

"Let's all get some rest," she suggested with forced cheer.

Her father had traveled with minimal provisions and it amazed Fiona that he had made it all the way here wearing a vault suit and carrying only a .32 revolver for protection. The pack he had stored in a ventilation shaft, a clever move she had to admit, only had enough food and water for a few days.

They decided on a roomy office in which to sleep for the night and Fiona couldn't help but feel a bit awkward on her father's insistence that they all sleep in the same room. In the wastes it would be a matter of staying together for safety's sake, but Fiona knew there was more to it. Maybe he just didn't want to let her out of his sight again. Perhaps he was feeling overprotective. Either way, the insistence wasn't unwelcome. But she had planned on giving Charon a very passionate apology… that would now have to wait.

They gathered inside the office and unfurled their bedrolls. Fiona hesitated only for a moment before unrolling hers right next to Charon's. She had scared him and kept him worried sick for days. The least she could do was let him know she wasn't ashamed of him.

They each sat down and dug around for food and water in their respective packs as Dogmeat trotted over to Charon and waited patiently for the ghoul to open a can of Cram for him. Charon hadn't realized how hungry he really was until he'd wolfed down his entire can of Pork N' Beans in mere moments. Looking embarrassed, he sipped his water slowly. Finally, Fiona had to ask.

"Did you eat at all in the last two days? Or sleep?" she inquired softly.

"I was too worried. I… It did not seem important," he replied, barely above a whisper.

Fiona's heart swelled and dropped. "Well I'm safe now. And I order you get some rest," she said with a wink.

Charon smiled and, hesitating, removed his jacket. He knew Fiona wouldn't flinch at the sight of him, a thought that made him feel warm. But her father might. _Well fuck him if he doesn't like what he sees,_ Charon thought to himself as he laid his heavy body down on the worn strip of bedding. He was asleep in minutes.

As Fiona and her father finished their meals, the silence grew increasingly uncomfortable. There was so much to say and neither of them knew how to start. Finally, she heard her father sigh and their eyes met. He smiled at her softly, then stood and inclined his towards the door. She rose and followed him out of the room, leaving Charon peacefully slumbering. Once they were down the hall a safe distance, James began.

"Fiona, my little girl. I never wanted you to be a part of the world up here. But I shouldn't have left you alone in that vault either. I was… blinded. I thought that people in 101 would react in a more rational manner but it seems I was wrong. Group think took over and…" his eyes grew teary. "You could have been killed. You could have died down there and I never would have known. And I would been trapped in that simulation forever and…" his jaw began quaking as he tried to control himself. "I am sorry. Truly."

"Daddy," Fiona whispered. She was unaccustomed to seeing her father as anything other than the rational and self-controlled scientist. "Let's just focus on what is rather than the 'what ifs', ok? I guess we've got some catching up to do."

"Yes," James said, relieved. "I want to know about how you've been."

"Well, the abbreviated version is I fought my way out of 101 and stumbled into Megaton. Learned that nothing in life is free and worked odd jobs to earn money to buy information on where you'd gone. Disarmed the nuke in the center of town-"

"What?!" James exclaimed.

Fiona made a shushing motion and pointed to the office where Charon was sleeping. She continued softly. "Yeah, Megaton's bomb is just for show now. The sheriff rewarded me with the deed to a house. So, I have my own place." Fiona always smiled when she said that. The feeling of adult accomplishment was clear on her face. "Then I went into D.C. I heard you'd gone to GNR. But once I got there I had to run more dangerous errands in exchange for information from Three Dog."

"That slimy little weasel," James said through gritted teeth.

"Oh I know. I already tore into him about it. We're on better terms now though. Anyway, so I almost died doing Three Dog's favor and ended up in Underworld."

"The ghoul city," her father said knowingly.

"Yes. And that's where I met Charon. We've been traveling together ever since. And my near death experiences have taken a major nose dive," she said, laughing. Leaning around the corner and peering back into the office with Charon's sleeping form, she continued. "We went to the Jefferson to look for you but missed you, obviously. Um, what else… We found a dog while we were scaving! Though I think he likes Charon more than me. I've helped out a few people in various places and made some friends. You know… stuff." Fiona's summary of their adventures was significantly shortened but there was simply too much to go over all at once. And more than anything, she just wanted her father to go ahead and ask what she knew he wanted to ask.

"Well, it sounds like you've been busy. I'm glad you've had… help. Your ghoul friend… Is he reliable? Trustworthy? I know you're new to the way things work up here."

Fiona wasn't sure she wanted to tell her father everything about Charon. Not yet, anyway. So she kept it simple. "Yes, dad. He is reliable and trustworthy. He's also my best friend so please be nice to him, ok? I know you probably think something shady is going on. I know all about how mercs are only loyal to their next paycheck. I know a lot women are expected to render payment with their bodies. But Charon's not like that. It's… complicated. But he's not going to turn on me for profit or force himself on me. He and I have been through a lot together, ok? "

"Alright, sweetheart. I trust you," James said, dropping the subject. Smirking, he continued. "So you really disarmed that bomb in Megaton?"

Fiona smiled wide. "Yep. I researched and toyed with explosives for weeks. But I finally did it."

"Well I'm very proud of you, Fiona. You did the wasteland a huge service," James said, beaming. "And perhaps you can help out with Project Purity once we get back. I'm sure we can find a job for you to do."

"I'd like that, dad. But I have stuff I still need to take care of too. Obligations I made to people. Jobs to do," she said, being intentionally vague. _You know, prewar mind-control technology to hunt down and decipher. Ghouls to free from centuries of slavery…_ "You uh, are you going to head back to the purifier right away?" she asked, disappointment in her voice.

"I have to Fiona. I need to get things up and running again. It took weeks to get the electrical systems back in order and there's still a lot to do. This vault did not have a G.E.C.K. _but_ I know now that if we could get one, the purifier would be able to perform its task. The hunt will continue but we have to get the system ready for when we do find a G.E.C.K."

Fiona sighed. "And just like that, he was gone." She leaned against the cold metal wall and hung her head in defeat. "So the project is your new baby now that I'm all grown up. I get it." Fiona did not even try to hide her sadness. "I hoped that you would rest for a few days at least. Maybe come to see the house in Megaton. Meet some of my friends. We could bond. But no…" she turned to walk away.

"Fiona Tierney Lin." James' voice was low and stern.

Like a child, she stopped in her tracks and turned to him. Obeying unquestioningly. _Guess we're all conditioned to a point,_ she thought.

"I know that we have a lot we still need to discuss and work through. And we will. But I gave up everything for you, young lady. I abandoned something that might have saved countless thousands of lives. All for your well-being. Maybe it was the wrong choice. Perhaps I should have stayed on the surface and raised you. But I… people up here are different. Self-serving. It's not their fault. It's by necessity given the harshness of this world. I just wanted you to grow up somewhere you could feel secure. Where you could fall asleep peacefully every night. I wanted you to know what it was like to make real friends, not just allies. I wanted you to be able to fall in love, not enter into a sexual arrangement in exchange for security. I wanted you to be able to find _happiness_, Fiona."

"Is that what you thought was in 101? Friendship and love and happiness?" she asked, her face fallen and sad. Without thinking, she muttered "Because I found those things in the wasteland dad. Not down there."

The exhaustion was finally setting in and Fiona turned without a word and made her way back to Charon. He was still sound asleep and Dogmeat had commandeered her bedroll to sleep next to his ghoul. Feeling a bit guilty, she gently shoved the dog aside. He huffed in annoyance but complied. Charon rarely slept so soundly and Fiona felt her heart break for how much worry she'd caused him. Settling down beside him, she curled into his massive form with no concern for what her father would think.

Sensing her presence, Charon slipped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against his chest. Fiona couldn't help but smile as one hand gripped her hip and the other cupped the back of her head protectively. She wasn't sure what to call this… relationship. Did people in the wasteland even date? But whatever it was, Fiona was happy and she knew that despite his hesitation, Charon was too. If her father took issue, so be it. All Fiona wanted in that moment was to fall asleep in Charon's arms.


	30. Chapter 30: Relief

**Author's Note: ** The fic has over 100 reviews and I'm stoked! I love every word of support. The updates have been slower but know that I am 100% dedicated to finishing this story. I have had the entire plot planned out since I began and there are many more chapters to write before I am through. Between second-guessing myself for days before posting every chapter and just… life in general… (and Skyrim! The DLCs FINALLY came out for PS3) a lot of things eat up the time in between postings. But please be patient with me?

* * *

Charon had slept deeply and without dreams. The sheer relief of having Fiona safe in his arms allowed him a rare kind of relaxation. And now that the three of them were on the move across the wastes, Charon felt renewed. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Tactically, it was a terrible distraction. But he didn't care. From the way her hair swayed as she walked to the curve of her hips, Charon drank it all in. There was so much he wanted to say, and do. However, the intermittent nasty glances from her father kept that from happening.

They had waited until mid-morning to leave, but were making good enough time across the dry and dusty terrain despite the wasteland's constant interruptions. Charon had seen more Yao Guai and feral dogs in the last few hours than he had in weeks. It was as if nature could sense the awkward silence in their group and was providing much needed distractions. The incessant skirmishes also provided Charon with an opportunity to observe James in combat. And the older scientist was not at all what he had been expecting.

While most men in his profession would have taken cover as soon as the danger began, James ran headlong into the fray. Both Charon and Fiona had offered him a better weapon, but James had insisted on sticking with his .32 revolver. And he knew how to use it. His aim was steady and precise, each round hitting its intended target. More than few Yao Guai were ended with a shot between the eyes by James' hand. But the man was far from reckless and Charon could tell he knew how to work in a team. He provided cover fire for Charon without being asked and always seemed to know when either he or Fiona needed to reload, taking up slack or tossing spare rounds their way. That kind of focus and attention could only come from plenty of combat experience. Clearly, James had not spent his entire life in a lab.

Charon was deep in thought as he and Fiona stripped part of their most recent Yao Guai conquest for meat and listened to the radio for a distraction, when a familiar voice came through the speaker of her Pip Boy.

"Hello chiiiiiildreeeen!" Three Dog exclaimed through the tinny speaker of her Pip Boy. "I know you're all big fans of my Herbert 'Daring' Dashwood radio drama. But a man gets tired of playing the same handful of episodes over and over. What's a DJ to do? I know! Make some new ones!" Fiona looked incredulously in the direction of her left forearm. There was only so much source material you could regurgitate from Dashwood's adventures.

"Now I know you've all heard about the lone wanderer from 101 and how she's been traveling the wasteland, disarming bombs and re-homing orphans," the DJ continued as Fiona felt her stomach drop. "But she's not traveling alone anymore. In fact, some time ago she made friends with her very own Argyle!"

"Three Dog," she whispered to herself as her father and Charon finally took interest in the broadcast. "Don't you dare do what I think you're about to do…" she said as she remembered their last visit to GNR. The DJ had been working on new Dashwood scripts while she slept and apparently had drawn some unexpected inspiration from their visit.

The radio personality kept on. "Now this isn't the original Argyle, boys and girls. But this guy is still one hell of a bad ass and I for one and glad our favorite vaultie has someone to watch her back. And now, without further adieu, I give you… dum dada da!…" he sounded out his own fanfare as a young female voice cut over the speaker.

"The Adventures of _me,_ Fiona the Vault Girl! And my faithful ghoul companion, Charon!" the cheery female voice announced with barely contained enthusiasm.

Fiona was clenching her jaw so tightly her teeth began to ache. "I do _not_ sound like that," she mumbled. "She sounds like a… teenager." Fiona said sheepishly, realizing her age. She couldn't help but wonder who Three Dog had found to voice her character.

A ghoul voice broke through the speaker and halted Fiona's pouting. "And don't forget about _my_ faithful canine companion, Dogmeat," a rough ghoul-like voice countered. But something about this voice sounded… off. It sounded like a smoothskin doing a ghoul impression rather than an actual ghoul. _Maybe he gets some of the Brotherhood soldiers to do the voices,_ she thought. _Who else does he even have access to?_

The broadcast now had the group's full attention. Fiona's voice actor continued with youthful exuberance. "Of course! I could never forget about Dogmeat, Charon! He's almost as adorable as you are!" the girl 'tee-hee'd with falsetto laughter and the real Fiona rolled her eyes. "Now let's go investigate that creepy cave with the screams coming out of it! I'm sure nothing terrible or life-threatening will happen, right?" the actress asked in ignorance.

The ghoul-voice actor sighed heavily. "If you say so, Fiona. But I don't like the look of this place."

The short drama continued predictably as the young Vault Girl stumbled into a den of raiders and tried unsuccessfully to talk them out of their evil ways while her ghoul companion made wise-cracks about her naivety under his breath. As the fictional raiders turned on the heroes, radio-Charon and Dogmeat took and delivered the brunt of the damage while the Vault Girl used her skills with explosives to collapse the entrance of the cave as they made their retreat, trapping the remaining fiends inside.

"You sure know how to make an exit, Fiona," the ghoul voice commented.

"I couldn't do it without you, big guy!" the girl responded as a sound effect of a dog's bark in the background played, apparently to give the impression that Dogmeat's radio personality was in agreement.

At the end of the broadcast, the party stood around in awkward silence until Fiona finally spoke. "I don't really sound like that, do I?"

Charon sighed and shook his head. "No, smoothskin. You do not sound like a teenage girl at all," he said with a crooked grin.

"Was that sarcasm coming from my faithful ghoul companion?" she asked, smirking.

James interjected. "I thought it was supposed to be 'stalwart' ghoul companion, from what I remember of the old Dashwood episodes."

Fiona shrugged her shoulders. "I guess in honor of a new series of characters, Three Dog chose a different adjective?" She shook her head and dreaded hearing any more episodes of the new radio show. She would never hear the end of this in Megaton.

The group finished packing the Yao Guai meat and continued southeast. After several minutes of awkward silence, and with no random wasteland animal attacks to distract them, James finally spoke up. "So, your own radio program, eh? I don't suppose that DJ even bothered to ask permission?"

"Of course not," Fiona sighed. "He does whatever the fuck he wants because he has a microphone."

Charon shook his head. "So much for keeping his promise to you," Charon mumbled.

"Hmm?" Fiona looked up.

"He promised not to give away any important information that could be used against you. Now the entire wasteland knows you have a bodyguard and a dog. Talon Company just got some free intelligence, if they didn't know that already," he said.

"Fuck me, you're right." Fiona bit her lip. "And here I was just pissed off because Three Dog made me sound like an idiot. Although, technically he only promised not to advertise my _whereabouts_…"

James stopped the two suddenly. "What's this about Talon Company?!"

"It's… a long story, dad. But when I disarmed the Megaton bomb it pissed off some guy named Tenpenny and now there's a price on my head." Before he could interrupted she continued. "Hence, one of the reasons having protection is a must," she said, motioning to Charon.

James glanced at Charon appraisingly. It was certainly no secret to any of them that he was suspicious of their companionship. But, the wasteland being as dangerous as it is, James also knew there are some costs to survival. Many women who did trade their bodies and as despicable as he found the practice, James knew first-hand about how unforgiving wasteland life can be. He didn't judge those women, and men, too harshly. However, the thought that his own daughter might be entering into a similar arrangement made him feel ill. Fiona had tried to dissuade his concerns and even told him point-blank that her situation with the ghoul was not sexual. But then she turned around and laid next to the creature… the man, he corrected himself mentally. The intimate embrace and wandering hands of the massive mercenary made it very clear what the ghoul wanted.

Fiona had been sheltered in the vault, he knew. She'd only dated one of the young men there, Freddie. And James was fairly certain that between the boy's nervous nature and the sexual side effects of the anti-anxiety and anti-depressant medications he was prescribed, that no sexual intercourse had taken place between the two. Therefore, Fiona might not be as aware of the nature of her situation as she should be, James reasoned to himself.

He had no doubt that the ghoul, Charon, was an efficient protector. He'd demonstrated amazing reflexes and instinct in the scuffles they'd encountered. But, as a father, James did not want his daughter associating with such a shady character for any longer than was necessary. Once Project Purity was operational, he would be able to offer her a job and some security in her life. And then, hopefully, she could be convinced to dismiss the mercenary.

* * *

Rivet City was exactly as Charon remembered. Unwelcoming. The group had made it to the city after dark and Fiona had to drop Harkness' name before the security guard on gate duty would allow them across. With the market already closed, restocking would have to wait until morning.

As they made their way through the echoing corridors of the ship, James kept his eyes open for the signs to the Science Lab. Fiona narrowed her eyes as he turned towards the corridor that would take him there. She cleared her throat to grab his attention.

"Well, I guess you're going to visit _Madison_ and the science team?" she asked with little effort to hide her disdain.

James sighed. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I want to recruit as many people as possible and get things at the purifier running again as quickly as we can. I thought perhaps you would come with us, Fiona. To help out."

"I will," she began. "But not right this second. I need to relax and unwind. Charon and I are going to get a room at the hotel. Come see us whenever you're done, ok?"

James bristled almost imperceptibly at the mention of a shared hotel room, but never let his smile falter. "Alright, sweetheart. I'll be by later tonight." He planted a fatherly kiss on her forehead before leaving for the lab.

Fiona sighed and walked silently towards the hotel, with Charon and Dogmeat at her heels. Once they were alone in the hallway, she felt a large hand rest gently on her shoulder and Fiona turned towards her favorite person in the wastes. The look on his face was kind and sympathetic, but she could tell he had something he needed to say.

"Yeeeees?" she asked slyly.

"Fiona," he began, "I understand you are angry with your father and jealous at the attention he is giving to his project over you." She opened her mouth to object, but realized it was useless. Charon continued. "You said yourself that you understood the importance of what this could mean for the wasteland…"

Fiona hung her head. "Yeah, I did. And I meant it."

"But you are still hurt," Charon said sympathetically.

"Yeah," Fiona said as she looked up at Charon's face. "Is that your diplomatic way of telling me to grow up and get over myself?"

Charon smirked slightly. "I would never speak out of place like that, mistress," he teased. Charon's usual stiffness and concerned nature was slowly fading, she noticed.

Fiona couldn't help but giggle. "Hey now. No calling me _mistress_," she said with a wink.

The couple continued to the hotel, walking close and brushing their hands together. The tension was becoming palpable. Fiona kept the conversation with Vera Weatherly short and to the point, side-stepping her attempts to rope Fiona into any conversation about the city's latest juicy gossip and grabbed the key to the room. Swinging the hatch open, the two stepped inside and as the door clanked shut behind them.

Alone with Charon for the fist time since she'd exited the pod, Fiona felt the tension rising. There was so much to say, but instead she turned and faced him silently. Words were not enough. And she could tell he felt the same way. Charon was staring at her intensely, his large chest rising and falling with heavy breaths beneath his leather armor. There was a sense of desperation to him.

"Charon…" she whispered, stepping to press herself against him. She raised a hand to his weathered face and gently pulled him down to her. The instant their lips met, the dam of emotion broke wide open.

A mass of tangled limbs fell to the bed as Dogmeat found a corner to fall asleep in. Touching, smelling, tasting. Both were feverishly desperate to make sure the other was real. Fiona grabbed the buckles of Charon's jacket and began fumbling with them as he he did the same to her. Breathing heavily as the armor came off, Fiona grabbed the hem of his shirt to pull it roughly up his chest. As the garment fell to the side, she ran her hands along his firm stomach. Positioned above her on his elbow, Charon exhaled shakily as he hovered over her. He may never get used to the odd sensation of wholeness he felt when she looked at him like this… like he was human.

As he reveled in the way she looked at him, it was hard for Charon to ignore that he was hard as stone. The aching in his groin was becoming unbearable. He reached down to her hips and gently traced his fingers along the waist of her pants. Glancing to her briefly for permission, she nodded and Charon slid the leathers down her legs painfully slowly as he watched her chest rise and fall. Fiona sat up briefly to remove her shirt, then laid back down, bare chested and trembling.

Leaning in close to her face, his other hand traveled the length of her taut stomach and caressed her through her worn underwear. Fiona gasped as his large digits migrated back and forth, rubbing her in all the right ways. Charon watched her expression as he let one finger slip underneath the frayed cotton and glance across her nub. Fiona arched back with a jolt and her mouth shot open in a perfect "o" shape as he repeated the motion. Charon kept his hand firmly on her flesh to prevent himself from shaking. It had been a very long time since he'd been with someone he cared for and he was nervous. Sometimes, things change after sex and that was the last thing he wanted to risk. But the thought of not following through with this was equally painful. So, he kept stalling.

He took hold of her underwear and gently slid it to the side. He inhaled sharply when he saw her glistening wetness. Charon knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but the thought that he had this effect on someone like Fiona boosted his confidence. She looked at him expectantly and nodded.

"Charon," she whispered. "Please."

Charon was never one to make a woman beg. He kept his eyes on her face as he slowly penetrated her with his index finger. Her gasps and whispers of his name mixed with the sound of Charon's heartbeat in his ears. He clenched his jaw as he felt her impossible tightness engulf his finger. He gasped at the sensation of her warm heat and wondered distantly how he was going to fit… when the time came. Charon continued to slowly push in and out, letting Fiona adjust. And as she adjusted, she began to move with him. Grasping the sheets with white knuckles, Fiona moved her hips in time with Charon's hand, chasing release.

"More," she begged him as she drove him deeper, her face flushed and skin pearling with sweat.

Charon obliged her, sliding his middle finger inside of her as well and pushing both digits in to the knuckle. Remembering something from centuries ago, he added a "come hither" motion and felt her muscles tighten as he did so.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed in ecstasy before biting her bottom lip to stay silent. Locking eyes with him, she pleaded in a whisper. "That. Oh god yes, keep doing that…"

Charon couldn't help but smirk as he moved his thumb to her bud. Watching her expression closely, he rubbed it gently with the pad of his finger and saw her eyes go wide and mouth open in a silent moan. Fiona threw her head back onto the pillow and stared vacantly as she drowned in pleasure. She was on the edge of release and her hands, balled into fists in the sheets, were tingling on the verge on numbness. The edges of her vision began to turn white as Charon applied more pressure to her clitoris with expert care and her head became dizzy and light. Breathing in gasps and driving herself onto his hand with desperation, Fiona felt a wave of euphoria rush over and drown her. Her mouth shot open to scream but the sheer intensity of the feeling overwhelmed her and no sound was made. Instead Fiona's entire body shook and spasmed beneath him.

Charon was breathless at the sight of her and, even restrained underneath his leather pants, he felt his member twitching with empathetic pleasure. She was beautiful. And for whatever reason, she wanted him.

As she cooled down and returned to her senses, Fiona saw Charon perched above her and staring hungrily. She smiled warmly and brought him down for a kiss. "That was incredible," she whispered as her hand wandered down the expanse of his chest. Lightly dragging her fingernails across his skin and muscle, she got a deep graveled moan from him. Her other hand gently unfastened the buttons on his pants. "And now it's your turn."

Charon gasped as she freed his shaft from its restraint and wrapped her small palm around its girth. He hissed as she built a rhythm and worked his flesh steadily in her hand. Resting above her, Charon began to move his hips in time with her minstrations and imagined that he was inside of her. Her flushed cheeks and bouncing breasts were a sight to behold and with every thrust into her hand Charon grew closer and closer to release. Propped on one elbow, his other hand roamed her sides and cupped her rear, drawing her hips upwards. Angling herself, their hips touched as she manipulated him with her hand. Charon lowered his head and buried his face in her neck, breathing raggedly in Fiona's ear as he thrust against her palm.

It was only a matter of minutes before Charon felt the building tension in his groin. Unclear flashes of times long gone presented themselves behind his eyelids as he grew closer to orgasm. A red-head he'd met at a bar. A vague memory busty blonde he'd seduced while on leave. Women he'd been with in before the war were mostly one night stands or casual girlfriends. He'd been too caught up in feeling young, invincible and righteous to care about anyone but himself. What a fool he'd been. Two centuries later he was a decaying mess and a slave to his neurological impulses to obey an employer, caring about anything _but_ himself, and now he'd finally found what everyone else had been talking about all those years ago.

He raised his head to look Fiona in the eyes, and it was his undoing. As soon as he met her gaze and saw her hunger for him it drove Charon over the edge. His mouth opened in sharp intake of breath as the pressure in his groin reached its crescendo. He tightened his grip on her backside and ground their hips together as his lips collided with hers. Muffling his moans of pleasure in hers, his limbs began to quake and the first truly pleasurable release he'd had in 200 years exploded across Fiona's torso. One wave after another wracked Charon's nervous system. He was shocked to realize the whimpers and moans his his ears were his own as centuries of stress and torment seemed to be expelled from his body.

It seemed like entire minutes passed before he returned to earth. And when he did, Fiona's smiling face welcomed him.

Smiling slyly, she asked "So… is _that_ standard for you or…?" She pointed to her stomach, grinning. Looking down, Charon saw the mess he'd made. Her entire stomach and most of her chest was… coated. Horrified, Charon grabbed his shirt from the foot of the bed and gently cleaned her.

"Sorry," he whispered, mopping her skin. "That is not," he paused. "It is not usually so… much."

But Fiona only laughed. "It's ok. It's actually kind of impressive," she said as she stretched lazily.

Charon tossed the filthy shirt to the floor and collapsed beside her as she rolled on her side to face him. The silence was comfortable as they held each other loosely and drifted off to sleep.


	31. Chapter 31: Man to Man

The pleasant drifting feeling of being barely asleep was something Charon rarely got to experience. His usual sleep patterns were rigid and when he was anything other than sound asleep, he felt compelled to be up and doing something. However, for once he simply relished the sensation of being half-aware and completely comfortable. He wasn't sure how long he and Fiona had been sleeping in the queen size bed of the hotel room but it couldn't have been very long based on the foot traffic and unintelligible echoes of voices from the hallway and other rooms. There were too many people up and about for it to be past 10 o'clock or so. Still, the noises only registered distantly in his consciousness as he preferred to focus on the sound of Fiona's soft breathing.

She was curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder as he circled her with his arms. Charon smirked playfully as he heard her begin to lightly snore. It wasn't a loud grating sound, more of half-whistle. And Charon had to admit to himself, he thought it was a little cute as her mouth hung open slightly. Suddenly, the sounds of Fiona's snore-whistles was interrupted by rapping knuckles on metal. Years of instinct overrode his relaxation and Charon snapped awake and fully alert. Dogmeat rose from his corner to look around the room and, upon noticing that Charon was going to attend to the problem, turned around and went back to sleep.

_Lazy mutt,_ Charon thought. He untangled himself carefully from Fiona, surprised that she did not stir in her sleep. Looking around the room, he found his pants on the floor. Jumping into the leathers, he searched for his shirt and found it shoved underneath the bed. Confused for a moment, he remembered why. He had used it to clean up his release. Answering the door wearing _that_ was not an option. The person beyond the threshold knocked again, louder this time. Fiona stirred only slightly but Charon did not want her to wake. She looked peaceful and beautiful and he wanted her to rest.

Charon went to his pack on the floor and searched for another shirt. He knew he had packed two others but they were buried underneath other supplies to act as padding for the bottom of the pack, and also because Charon had not anticipated needing to access a change of clothes in such a hurry_. _Ammo requires quick access. Stimpaks too. But spare shirts were not a "top-of-the-pack" priority item. So as he dug around for something to throw over his rotten carcass the person at the door knocked a third time. This time the noise elicited a grunt from Fiona. She tossed to her other side and mumbled something about a goat and not wanting to go to school. Finally, Charon fished out an off-white tee shirt and threw it over his head as he rotated the wheel of the hatch, still hooking his second arm in the shirt as it swung open.

"What!" he whispered in frustration before he fully registered who was at the door.

James stood prepared to knock a fourth time and looked almost as aggravated as Charon. The two men stared at each other for a few awkward moments, Charon's frame blocking the half-open doorway and, thankfully, the view of a naked Fiona sleeping on the bed. Finally, James broke the silence.

"Fiona did tell me to stop by later once I finished recruiting scientists. It took a few hours longer than expected to convince everyone. Is she in?" His tone was flat and professional, with not even a trace of forced civility.

"She is," Charon replied in an equally neutral manner. "But she is asleep."

"Yes, well it is a bit late. Still, she is the one who told me to come by…" James trailed off as he tried to peer around Charon's shoulders.

Charon blocked him casually. "Yes, but she assumed you would have come by earlier in the evening. She has gone to bed already."

James' face was now losing its casual professionalism and his brow furrowed with concern. "Is there some reason she cannot come to the door?"

Charon started at the accusation. He would never, could never, hurt Fiona. In any way. Inching forward slightly and lowering his voice Charon answered. "She is asleep and I do not want to wake her. There is no other reason."

Had he been paying attention , Charon would have heard the rustling behind him and would not have jumped like a frightened molerat when he felt a hand rest on his hip and gently move him to the side. Fiona was awake and had thrown on a loose fitting shirt and some sort of sleeping pants he didn't even know she had. She moved to stand beside him and placed her hand on the small of his back, out of her father's sight, and rubbed gently in little circles.

"Hey dad," she yawned, rubbing her eyes with a fist. "Sorry, I kinda passed out. I was more exhausted than I thought."

James' face softened a bit. "Oh it's alright, sweetheart. I'm sorry I woke you up. It's a bit late but I was just coming by to ask if you or Charon wanted to grab a drink with me. I see you've already turned in for the evening but Charon seems to still be among the waking…" James said slyly. His tone was friendly but his face communicated otherwise. If Fiona noticed the juxtaposition she did not mention it.

Charon felt his stomach drop. The mind-blowingly wonderful evening just took a twist. He knew that James was not _asking_ him to come along. He was very certainly ordering. Luckily, Charon didn't answer to James. He looked to Fiona for some sort of guidance. He knew he was capable of deciding for himself, but old habits die hard. Fiona merely looked right back at him.

"Up to you, big guy," she shrugged, seemingly unaware of mounting tension between the two men.

Charon had never wished for direct orders this badly in his life. More specifically, he wished for a direct order not to go. To avoid the small angry man standing in front of him. But Fiona simply stood and stared at him patiently. Charon weighed the pros and cons for a moment before answering, "I'll grab my boots." Whatever reason James had for wanting to get him alone, he knew the man would not relent. It was best to get it over with.

He turned silently and retrieved his shoes from the floor, followed by his shotgun. Facing Fiona, Charon added "Keep the mutt in here with you. Don't answer the door for anyone. Be sure to lock it when I'm gone."

"I will," Fiona replied as she yawned once more and shut the door.

Once he was in the corridor with James, Charon stared for a moment. "So… a drink, was it?"

"Yes," James replied coldly. "Downstairs at the Rudder. Now."

They walked silently together down the stairs until they reached the Muddy Rudder. It was the same as always. Belle Bonny was surly behind the counter when they ordered their drinks, scotch and a beer for James and Charon respectively. Brock was standing in the corner, scanning the room, and trying to seem casually intimidating, which reminded Charon a bit too much of his last employment situation. And a scattering of patrons dotted the rickety tables throughout the establishment. The two men found a table near the stairs and sat down, still quietly assessing each other. Finally, James spoke.

"So, Charon," he began, keeping his voice low. "How did you meet my daughter _exactly_?"

Charon knew Fiona had already given her father an altered account of the events but wasn't sure about the specifics of what had been said. So he kept it vague. "We met in Underworld," he said plainly.

"Yes, she already told me as much," James replied. "I'm asking for details. If you are going to be… traveling… with her then I want to know more about you."

James had a surprisingly intimidating presence, Charon realized. He was reminded of a series of spy movies that were popular before the war, where the suave agent would always face some unknown evil villain throughout the film, eventually meeting the man near the end only to find that he was not what the agent had been expecting. Charon felt like the befuddled protagonist in that moment, and half expected to see James sitting in a plush leather office chair, swiveling to face him and petting a menacing looking cat in his lap. While he lacked the office chair and the feline, James' calm confidence spoke volumes about what the quiet scientist was capable of doing.

Snapping out of his reverie, Charon answered. "She was injured when she was brought into Underworld. Minor stuff. Mostly dehydration and exhaustion from what I understand. I was not the one who found her outside. I was a… bouncer at a bar. I just heard about her from patrons. A day later she shows up in the bar and starts asking around about hiring some protection. We have been traveling together ever since."

James seemed to think about this for a moment. "You left your whole life behind. Just like that? She must have offered a lot of caps…"

Charon huffed. "I was happy to leave that place. And yes, the pay is good."

James narrowed his eyes. "And what does your payment entail, Charon?" he asked bluntly as he sipped some scotch from a glass.

Charon closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He really didn't have any experience dealing with suspicious/angry fathers. But he knew exactly what James was implying. "She pays me in _caps,_" he emphasized.

"Do you always share a hotel room? If she pays so well, I imagine you could afford your own," James observed.

"I could," Charon admitted. "But I prefer to stay close by. And she prefers to have me close by."

"Interesting. I assume one of you takes the floor-" James began, but was cut off.

"Stop." Charon spoke firmly, and he leaned across the small table. "We are both grown men. I am not a frightened teenage boy you can intimidate and toy with. Treat me like a man and I will do the same." Charon paused for a moment, shocked at the words he'd produced.

James considered this for a moment then, unexpectedly, he smiled. "Very well. You're right. Let's start over then." Both men leaned back in their chairs slightly. "Charon, I suspect that you are taking advantage of my daughter. I brought you here to tell you, man to man, to stop. Or else."

If James had been anyone else, he'd have found a shotgun in his face and shallow grave after uttering those words to Charon. But he wasn't just anyone. He was Fiona's father. She had been trying to find him for months and hurting him would hurt her. Still, Charon's trigger finger itched.

Charon sighed audibly to calm himself. "I am not taking advantage of her."

"Oh really?" James said as he sipped down more scotch and Charon played with the neck of his beer bottle. "So you haven't pressured or persuaded her in _any way whatsoever_ to-"

"No." Charon's face was stoney and serious. "I have not. We have not yet had _intercourse_, which is what you were trying to find out with this ridiculous questioning. When we do, it will be because she allows it. So now let me be clear," Charon paused to assess James' face. He still seemed calm, so Charon continued. "You left her. Alone. With no warning. _Locked_ in a tomb with a bunch of crazy people. She almost died getting out and she almost died a dozen times since trying to find you. And I have cared for and protected her throughout this. I taught her how to defend herself. I have taken bullets for her. I held her when she was sick. And I will continue to do so until _she_ tells me otherwise. Not you."

James sat still and silent, contemplating what was just said. "I can kick myself for those mistakes until the day I die. I probably will. When I left that vault, I made a series of dangerous assumptions. I knew that there would be some initial outrage over me leaving. But I assumed it would die down quickly. I thought, as obsessed as our overseer was with the 'status quo', that Alphonse would calm things down and return them to normal within hours. I was wrong. I assumed if I kept Fiona in the dark about my plans to leave, that her innocence in the matter would count for something. Again, I was mistaken. I assumed Jonas would give her my goodbye message…" he trailed off. "And none of that can be changed now. What I _can_ do for Fiona now, is try not to repeat the past. I can and will help her build a future and protect her… from whatever or _whoever_ I deem a potential threat. And what little I know about you, Charon, I do not like."

James leaned forward casually and continued speaking softly, but sternly. "I know that Fiona met you when she was desperate for protection and you likely took advantage of that desperation to secure better than average pay from a girl who didn't know any better. You admit you've become involved with her physically and _claim _to care about her but you're still taking her money with no qualms. So, from my perspective, tell me just why I shouldn't worry."

Charon's ire subsided a bit. He could see the raw pain in James' eyes and the genuine regret he had for leaving his daughter unprotected. Charon could relate. He had failed her outside the drive-in so many weeks ago. And like James, he still felt the sting of regret but refused to let it mire him in self-pity. And, Charon admitted to himself, from James' perspective his relationship with Fiona probably did seem unsavory.

"You are making more assumptions," Charon corrected him.

"Then correct me," James dared. "Tell me what I'm wrong about."

Charon couldn't stomach telling James about his contract. It wasn't the man's business. And if there was any hope of him becoming free from his impulse to obey, maybe he would never need to know. But the longer he stayed silent, the more James interpreted this as admission of guilt. Charon sighed and finally spoke. "I told her the pay she offered was higher than average but she insisted on it anyway. When she… hired me… I owned nothing but the clothes on my back and my shotgun. _I_ was the desperate one and apparently she felt charitable. Also, I am not accepting her money _without_ qualms. I do care about her and if she stopped paying me entirely I would still follow her."

James searched Charon's face for deception and found none. "In that case, Charon, I apologize for making assumptions. But regardless, I want what is best for her," James continued. "I want her to be happy. Not just now, but years from now. Long after I'm gone. If she acquires an unsavory reputation as a result of her tryst with you, she _will_ have trouble finding a husband. She _will_ run into bigots and people with grudges who want to make an example of her. And your protection now will result in dangers for her later in life. _That_ is my fear."

"I can live a very long time," Charon corrected. "I will be around to protect her long after you are gone."

James paused thoughtfully. "Just how old _are_ you?"

Sighing, the tired ghoul answered. "230. Roughly." James tried to hide the shock in his face, and if it were not for Charon's centuries of life experience, he might have missed the small tells in the man's face.

"Alright then," James said, nodding. "So it has been quite some time since you were a teenager yourself. But perhaps you can remember how fleeting attraction can be to someone Fiona's age? So, let me be blunt." James sat up straight and downed the last of his drink, placing the tumbler carefully back down on the table. "Even _if_ your intentions are totally honorable… this has no future. She may think she feels something genuine for you but, as you said yourself, you have protected and cared for her. She is young and on her own for the first time. Then along comes a noble protector and attraction occurs. But her feelings will likely fade. And it will end badly."

Charon felt like he'd been sucker punched by Armitage again. James had a point. While the centuries had made specific memories fuzzy, Charon remembered how quickly he used to become infatuated with, and subsequently tire of, young women in his teenage years. The thought of Fiona doing the same to him was not only wounding, but complicated by his contract.

Dozens of scenarios raced through his mind, growing and branching out through the years. Attempts on Fiona's life, her face now a well-known target for bigots. Scandal follows her everywhere she goes, even years after he leaves her service. Fiona grows tired of his company and sells his contract. Or Fiona grows tired of his company but feels too guilty to sell him, and his presence becomes a weighty, unwanted thing. Fiona finds a better match. He is as smart and idealistic as herself but disgusted/intimidated/uncomfortable with Charon's presence. So his contract is sold. Or not, and he lives in agony for years as he guards the woman he loves and the man who better deserves her.

It took only seconds for these nightmares to cloud his mind and the evening's previous high to vanish. Charon sat stoically across from James at the small table and tried not to look as crushed as he felt. He'd tried to be realistic about his feelings for Fiona, and hers for him. But the last few days had given him a bit of hope and now…

Charon was pulled from his thoughts when James stood up from his seat. The conversation was finished and as he walked past Charon, James stopped and patted the ghoul's shoulder in some imitation of camaraderie. "Charon," he whispered. "I apologize if I came off as… harsh. For the record, I do believe you when you say you're not trying to take advantage of Fiona. And I don't hate you, or ghouls, or mercenaries. But I do love my daughter. And I'm trying to do right by her."

Charon only stared blankly back, not uttering a word. There was nothing to be said. So James nodded politely and ascended the stairs, leaving Charon alone to think long and hard about his future.

* * *

The short trek to the Jefferson Memorial was far more difficult than it had to be. Fiona marveled at how the Rivet City science team, all people who were born and raised above ground, could be so utterly useless in a firefight. Not one of them aside from her father carried a weapon. No one wore any armor. And as soon as the Super Mutant perched atop its scrap metal mound began bellowing threats, they all ran and hid until she, Charon, Dogmeat and her father had dispatched it. To his credit, Charon did most of the damage. And despite the nearly universal disapproval of the science team at the presence of a ghoul, they all remembered his legendary fight with the android. The team wanted top-notch security to escort them to the memorial and James had provided it… so they all knew better than to complain.

"Unbelievable," Fiona mumbled to herself as Dr. Li and Daniel Agincourt, one of the engineers, stumbled out of their hiding spot behind some rubble.

"About time you finished it off," the engineer commented snidely. "My legs were starting to cramp being all crouched down like that."

As the ungrateful man continued on with the others, Fiona stood speechless. She turned to her father who had jogged to her side. "So dad," she said bitterly. "You say he's one of the better engineers or…?"

Laughing lightly, her father patted her on the back. "Yes, darling. He is actually one of the more talented engineers on the team. So if you could hold off on shooting him until _after_ we have Project Purity up and running, I'd be grateful."

Fiona sighed dramatically. "Fine. He lives. But only for the greater good," she teased.

As they continued to the monument, Fiona also couldn't help but notice that Charon was acting strange. He returned to their room very late last night and had been distant ever since. He'd still crawled into bed with her and held her, but something in his embrace was colder than usual. And this morning he smiled and kissed her gently, but there was a sadness in his eyes. Now, as they closed in on their destination, the ghoul was all business. He scanned their surroundings diligently with his shotgun at the ready, eyes on potential threats and nowhere else. A few minutes and another close call later, they entered the memorial.

"Mother of holy… fucking… Shit-titty-ass… FUCK!" Everyone turned to see Daniel Agincourt trip on the remains of one of the dead super mutants, splattering his RobCo jumpsuit with putrefied fluids.

Fiona laughed. "Sorry about the mess," she said, swinging her plasma rifle onto her back and grinning widely at the disturbed man. "The first time Charon and I came around here looking for dad, there were a few party crashers. There's two more dead mutants in the Rotunda and a few in the basement as well. You'll probably need to clean them out…"

The other scientists stepped around the corpses, gingerly avoiding dried blood and gore while Charon shooed a curious Dogmeat away from the mess. James however, stood back and assessed the scene. "You led them down the hall into a bottleneck and concentrated fire?" he asked, impressed.

"Yeah, between that and a few well-placed frag mines, they were mutant toast. Charon taught me that one," she said grinning in her ghoul's direction.

He smiled warmly at his daughter. "Yes, I can see you've learned a lot, sweetheart," James replied, thoughtfully.

"And he was even teaching me how to be a sniper spotter… before I got sick," she said as they continued to the Rotunda with Charon bringing up the rear.

"Oh? He mentioned something about that. Are you recovered?" James asked.

"Yeah, I am now. But for a while I felt like death. The doc in Megaton says my immune system hasn't had a chance to experience all the wonderful wasteland bacteria and viruses yet, so I'll likely get sick on and off until I build immunity." They picked their way through the Rotunda and up the stairs to the control room. "I was alone the first time it happened. But this last time, Charon was around to play nursemaid."

James wrapped an arm around his daughter as they entered the circular space. "Well I'm glad you had someone around while I was absent, Fiona."

"Me too," she said, smiling warmly in Charon's direction. The ghoul, however, continued to maintain a professional demeanor and simply nodded. Fiona sighed heavily. Something was definitely wrong and it had started after Charon had gone off with her father. "Hey, Charon," she said innocently. "Can you go with the assistants and check out the basement? It's probably like we left it but I don't want anyone getting into trouble if something unexpected moved in."

He nodded silently and descended the stairs, following a large dark-haired man named Garza into the basement with the dog at his heels. Researchers, engineers and assistants were buzzing around the rotunda, picking apart panels and running diagnostics on machines, each seeming to already know what they needed to do.

"So, about how long will it take to get the purifier powered up?" Fiona asked casually.

"Several weeks, I'd estimate," her father replied.

"Really?!" she asked, surprised.

"Yes. How long did you think it would take?" he asked, amused.

Fiona shrugged and leaned against the glass. "Hell, I don't know. I guess I sort of imagined that we'd get in here and start flipping switches, changing fuses and then… BAM! Something dramatic happens."

James chuckled. "If only it were that easy. No, we all have a lot of work to do, corpse removal aside, before we can even get the power on." He paused thoughtfully. "And I have a few jobs in mind for you if you'd like to help out."

Fiona eyed her father with a hint of suspicion. "I already told you I'd like to help but I have obligations to certain people that I have to take care of first…"

"To Charon, you mean." James' kind fatherly smile faltered.

"Yeah, dad. We have something important we need to find." She closed her eyes and sighed. If they could find those codes, if they could get "the surgeon" to help them… maybe Charon could be free. Maybe.

"Oh, he's a very capable person. I'm sure he can manage his own errands, Fiona. I want to spend time you, sweetheart," James said softly.

"Dad. It's… hard to explain. But trust me when I say that I _really_ do need to help him with this. I made a promise and I don't take that lightly. You taught me that," Fiona reminded him.

James smiled sadly. "Yes, I did indeed. And I'm glad you take what I say to heart at least some of the time, young lady, "he teased.

"And speaking of Charon…" Fiona took a moment to examine the control room and felt lost in the menagerie of tech. However, she did recognize the button that triggered the containment door. As the glass door slid shut, the ambient noise from the workers below ceased and Fiona was alone with her father. She made sure the intercom was off before she spun around angrily and asked through gritted teeth, "Just what the hell did you say to him? He's been acting weird ever since you went out for drinks last night."

"Fiona, I just sat him down for a little talk. Man to man." James stood straight and imposing, obviously feeling as if he was in the right.

"And what did you have to say to him, dad? As a man?" She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes.

"Sweetheart," her father began, "he and I had a talk about… what is going on between the two of you." James hesitated, not sure how to phrase the rest of his sentiments. Fiona had a small rebellious streak and he didn't want her to cling to the ghoul in response to his disapproval. But he also couldn't risk her underestimating the potential volatility of their involvement. "It isn't healthy, Fiona-"

"Excuse me?" she interrupted.

"Now, please let me finish," James asked. "The sort of attention you will bring to yourself by being involved with someone like Charon… there are plenty of people in the wasteland who will disapprove…"

"I don't care," she said.

"I only want what is best for you…" he begged.

"Fuck you!" she yelled, her screams silent to everyone outside the control room. "Just fuck yourself! You don't get to decide what is best for me ever again! And I expected better from you, dad. I thought you'd be more open-minded than other wasteland assholes…"

"Fiona, I have no personal prejudice against ghouls. But I do have to be realistic about how people will react and what might happen to you as a result," her father stated bluntly.

"You know, you and mom were different races. There used to be people who made a big deal out of that. What if all of those couples before you two had decided to back down and stick to 'their own kind' because of public opinion?" she asked.

James sighed heavily. It was a difficult point to counter. "Fiona… yes, you have a point. But it does not negate mine entirely. And his… condition… aside," he continued, "you must consider whether or not this involvement with Charon is realistic in the long-term. Will these feelings even last? Is it worth all of this trouble for a simple crush?"

Both father and daughter stood stubbornly facing each other, neither willing to back down. Finally, Fiona let out an exhausted sigh.

"Don't think I haven't considered that part of my attraction comes from a place of gratitude for all the bullet-taking he's done for me. Because I have." She stepped back and leaned against the containment barrier. "He almost _died_ trying to protect me from a group of raiders, you know. And when they finally overwhelmed us, they grabbed me and left him for dead. And he fought his way back from the brink of death to track them down and rescue me before anything… else… happened." Fiona tensed her jaw and continued. "So yeah, at first I ignored my feelings. I wrote it off as me feeling grateful for the daring rescue. But the feelings never went away, dad. They got stronger." Fiona straightened herself and faced her father again. "Dad, I want to know if this will last too. I need to know that he feels something real and that this isn't just because of his… sense of obligation. And this errand is related to that. So just…" she trailed off, unsure how to even express herself without revealing the details of Charon's contract.

"Fiona, I don't understand," her father pleaded. "Why would he feel _obligated_ to be with you? He told me you've been very charitable to him but I doubt that would oblige him to stay. And you're not… ghouls are sterile and he said you two hadn't…"

"Wow." Fiona ran a hand over her face in disbelief. "Of course you asked him if we've fucked yet. Because that what dad's do apparently. Christ…" Looking back at her father again, she said simply "Dad, I promise I will explain it to you eventually. But for now, I don't feel like it's my place to tell you about it. It's personal for Charon and he's trusting me a lot with this. Ok?"

James hung his head and sighed. Resigned, he said "Alright sweetheart. But I don't like all these secrets."

Fiona tightened her face and cocked her head to the side, letting her father's ironic words sink in. "Oh really? Apple doesn't fall far from the tree then."

She opened the containment door and descended the stairs as James continued to worry.

* * *

**Post-Chapter Note**: I hope James is coming off the right way. I want him to be harsh, but not hateful. Blunt for the sake of necessity, not cruelty. He is protective, overly so, of his daughter at this point and sees her relationship with Charon as a disaster waiting to happen. This is why he wants to end it, not for any personal prejudice. I hope it came out ok.


	32. Chapter 32: Shotgun Surgeon

There was no shortage of work to be done, and the hours passed quickly into the afternoon and early evening. Charon demonstrated a surprising knowledge of anatomy and showed Garza and a few of the less queazy members of the team the most efficient way to dismember a body for easy transport. Gruesome though the task was, by the end of the night all the mutant corpses had been disposed of outside and endless expanse of gory floor space had been, mostly, cleaned. Her father had even participated in some of the last bits of corpse removal towards the end of the evening, but kept quiet about anything other than the work at hand.

And now, as everyone settled down in the basement bunk room and claimed a mattress, Fiona and Charon made their way further down. There was room for them with the others, but they both had the distinct feeling that they were unwelcome. The flood control room was too noisy and her father's private room was occupied. Eventually the pair settled down in a room labeled "Fuse Access A-1" for the night, well out of the way of everyone else. As they laid their bedrolls down, side by side, the unspoken conversation they needed to have hung thick in the air.

"So…" she began. "Garza seems alright. He was less squeamish about hacking up mutants than the others at least."

"Yeah, he's ok. By the end of the day he was actually looking at my face when I talked. Most smoothskins don't," Charon replied.

That was the opening she needed. "Did my dad? Look you in the face, I mean. When he had his 'man-to-man' with you?" She saw Charon deflate a bit. He sat down on his bedroll and leaned his back against the cold metal wall. "I pried it out of him," she added.

"Yeah, he did look me in the face." Charon extended his hand to Fiona, leading her to floor to sit beside him. "It would be a lot easier to ignore him if he hadn't. If he had spouted a bunch of bigotry and threats it would not have phased me."

"So he was civil to you?" she asked.

"I don't know about _civil._ But… he was not hateful. And it made me think. About everything," he whispered.

"Don't." Fiona's voice grew stern. She elaborated when she saw Charon's face grow still at her commanding tone. "I mean," she softened, "don't let him give you any more troubles. We both have plenty of those."

Charon leaned into her and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Troubles aside, I haven't been this happy in centuries. I just want it to last."

Fiona turned to look at him and held his face in her hands. "It can, if we want it bad enough."

The sad smile he gave her was meant to be reassuring.

"Charon, I _hate_ it when you look at me like that."

Startled, he asked, "Like what?"

"Like I'm a child who just said something adorable… but stupid." She paused. "You really think I'm naive as hell, huh?"

Charon grabbed her, crushing her to his chest. "No," he whispered. "I think you are idealistic. But not naive. Not anymore." She sighed against his chest and relaxed. "And I think you are beautiful. And intelligent. And kind to the right people. And merciless to others, if they deserve it."

She laughed a bit in his shirt. "You like that?"

"Mmhmm," he uttered. "I like your mean streak. It's the right kind of ruthless… if that makes any sense. It is never pointless or without cause. It's a last resort because you do not enjoy killing. But when you do, it is with conviction."

She glanced up and met his gaze. "Mostly I shoot guys that are shooting at me." She smirked. "But with _conviction_ apparently."

Now it was Charon's turn to smile. "You mock me, smoothskin. And here I was trying to be romantic."

The pair laid down, side by side. Dogmeat curled up between Charon and the wall and the trio slept soundly.

Fiona and Charon left the next morning without so much as a goodbye to the science team and only a brief farewell to James. Her father only knew that they would be gone for as much as a few days but after the fight with his daughter James knew better than to press for the details. Fiona and her ghoul seemed in good spirits when they left and he could only hope that, whatever they were up to, they would come back safely.

He had noticed that the two slept away from the rest of team the previous night rather than in the bunk room. James couldn't blame them. The stares and whispers of the scientists and assistants were even starting to get on his nerves, so he could imagine how self-conscious Fiona felt. But if she was going to insist on "dating" a ghoul, stares and whispers would be the least of her problems.

James shook his head and tried to concentrate on the malfunctioning panel in front of him. Something wasn't connected properly and it was continually fluctuating in power. Granted, he still only had one generator running at full power and-

"You're up early," a feminine voice from behind startled him.

He turned to see Madison striding into the control room, holding two cups of what passed for coffee in the wasteland. James accepted it gratefully as Madison sat down next to him at the panel.

"So what's wrong?" she asked.

"More power fluctuations. If we could get that second generator running then I-"

"I mean personally, James. I can tell something is bothering you _personally._ I'm trying to be… a friend," she said, hesitantly.

James leaned back in his chair and smiled. "You are, Madison. And you always will be," he said, not noticing the minute cringe in her face. He sighed and continued. "As for what's wrong, well I think you can guess."

She smiled, knowingly. "Yes, they are quite the pair. The gossip in Rivet City hit full tilt a few weeks back when they stayed the night in the same hotel room for the first time. No shortage of outrage, that's for sure." She saw James' face set in worry. "_But," _she reassured him, "apparently they did some sort of favor for Harkness, the new security chief. Now he's got his whole force under orders to let them be and even keep an eye out for threats." Dr. Li, Madison, smiled and sighed. "That girl. She takes after you, James. She changes things wherever she goes." James' face eased a bit, and he seemed proud. "Although, she's far _less_ diplomatic than you are. And her ghoul… friend… certainly doesn't help ease her temper." She sat forward a bit. "Did you know they busted up my lab… _twice_… fighting with this lunatic from the Commonwealth? She tried talking to him at first. But it clearly wasn't working so…" Madison made a gun with her fingers and shot an imaginary target. She sighed tiredly. "God, they broke a lot of stuff that day."

James laughed genuinely. "Now _that_ would be the bit of Catherine in her," he said fondly. "She was as gentle as a lamb until someone got on her bad side. Then the claws came out. She was so furiously protective…"

James got the faraway look in his eyes that Madison was all too familiar with. He was lost in a memory now. One that didn't include her. They never did.

* * *

The journey to the Red Racer factory was a difficult one. The first problem was that Charon only knew the approximate location of the building, so there was quite a bit of aimlessly wandering of old highways involved in the search. The second, most pressing problem, was the persistence of the raiders in the area. They traveled west from the Arlington Library and then veered north along outskirts of the ruins. In the middle of the wastes, raider groups were spread out and largely disorganized. However, in this area they had to contend with several well-armed and shockingly cognizant bands of raiders every other mile.

They approached one overpass only to find out too late that there was a raider lookout and a Mark II turret mounted at the top. They had been trying to avoid the raider encampment located to the side of the overpass by going underneath and around it. But it was soon alerted and all hell broke loose at once. They took cover under the overpass, where the turret could not fire. As raiders began funneling down the abandoned highway towards them, Fiona got a sickening sense of deja vu. Charon tossed a grenade, igniting a cascade of exploding cars that took care of a few of the raiders while Dogmeat pulled a straggler to the ground.

Fiona ducked behind a concrete slab beneath the overpass and yelled over the roaring explosions. "Since when the fuck do they have turrets?!"

It was a damn good question, Charon had to admit. He'd seen some of the more intelligent raiders booby-trap their camps with simple things like land mines or rigged shotguns. But it was unusual to encounter a group who had anyone sober enough to program a defense turret. An exploding projectile interrupted his train of thought. Peeking out from behind the concrete divider for a moment, Charon caught a flash of what he suspected caused the impact. _Great,_ he thought. _A raider with a missile launcher. My fucking favorite._ He glanced to Fiona, ducked behind the other side of the bridge expanse.

"I need a distraction!" he yelled just loud enough for her to hear.

Fiona grabbed her SMG and began firing wildly in the direction of the raider at the top of the hill, causing the jet-addled woman to duck and cover, but not flee. Glancing to Charon, she saw him hurriedly assembling his sniper rifle. She smiled, and continued distracting the missile-armed raider with wild firing, and actually managed to hit one of the remaining raiders who was running down the burning highway. She glanced again and Charon was now crouched with his rifle pointed upwards ever so slightly. He was still as a statue as he took aim and the raider in his sights loaded another missile. She raised the launcher to her boney shoulder, smiling wildly and taking aim for the block of concrete Fiona was ducking behind. Charon knew better than to rush a shot, but the pressure was mounting quickly. Fiona's cover had taken a few hits already and one more missile might crumble it. Time slowed down as the woman's hand wrapped around the trigger and Charon's finger slowly depressed the trigger of his rifle as he exhaled.

Charon breathed a sigh of relief as the headless raider crumpled to the ground. "She's down!" he called out.

Fiona crawled shakily from cover and examined the carnage. Several wrecked cars were leaking radiation, five raider bodies littered the road and despite the close call… Fiona was ok. She took a deep breath to calm and reassure herself then moved to Charon. "Nice shot. Now let's deal with that turret, steal their shit and move on. And…hey wait." She looked around urgently for a moment. "Where's Dogmeat?"

"Fuck," Charon whispered.

They both urgently scanned the surrounding area but with all the smoke and debris, they didn't see their companion. Fiona was worried but Charon looked absolutely sick. He pulled a single pulse grenade from his pack and ran out into the road where the turret could fire. Luckily, Charon knew the targeting on a Mark II was laboriously slow which gave him time to hurl the grenade upwards with more force than he realized he had. Upon impact, a dome of pulsating energy whipped out and destroyed the machine. But Charon was already facing the opposite direction, headed towards the last place he saw the dog. Fiona ran to catch up with him, whistling and clapping her hands along with Charon to get a response. She flipped over sheet metal and searched underneath cars for any sign of the animal. Finally, she heard a faint whining sound. She turned to see one of the large raiders Dogmeat had taken down begin to move. Fiona gasped and reached for her rifle but stopped short when she saw the man was not alive, but on top of something that was.

"Charon! Over here!" She rushed to the corpse and flipped it over to reveal and very battered and singed Dogmeat. "Hey there, boy. It's ok," she reassured him as she reached for her medical supplies. His fur was singed from one of the explosions and and his rear right leg had a nasty series of gashes and burns. But he didn't seem to have any critical injuries. Fiona heard heavy footfalls behind her as Charon rushed over. "He's a little bashed up, but otherwise I think he's ok," she assured him. She couldn't help but smile at the sigh of relief that washed over Charon's face.

He knelt beside the dog and sighed. "Way to fuck up, mutt. It's called taking cover."

Fiona rolled her eyes at Charon's unique form of affection. "It's gonna be ok, Dogmeat. I've got a nice stimpak for you," she said as she reached for his hind leg.

"Fi, wait!" Charon yelled, too late.

Fiona had already taken hold of the injured leg and Dogmeat's eyes went wide with shock and pain. In a flash, the jaws that tore apart the raider only minutes ago were snapping at Fiona's hand. "Shit!" she scream, stumbling backwards. "What the fuck, animal?! Charon is he going… feral? For dogs?"

But Charon's entire demeanor had changed. His normally large and intimidating presence was somehow… diminished. He was on his knees next to Dogmeat, making low shushing sounds and exuding calm. He kept his voice low and soothing, as much as a ghoul can, and spoke to Fiona without ever taking his eyes off of Dogmeat's confused and stressed face. "It's ok. He didn't mean it," he calmly shushed. "He's injured, Fiona. He just reacted. An injured animal operates on instinct more often than not."

Charon extended his hand slowly and let Dogmeat lift his head to slowly inspect the limb. The dog began to whine softly and then started furiously licking Charon's hand and forearm with a kind of desperation Fiona had never seen before. After a moment, Charon extended his other hand and pressed it gently to the side of the dog's face. He inched forward and partially leaned over the animal, gently stroking him into a state of reduced anxiety.

"Ok," Charon whispered, his eyes still locked with the dog's. "He's calmer now. You can give him the stim, and I've got his head if he tries to snap."

Fiona nervously approached and, following Charon's lead, made her movements slow and deliberate. But Dogmeat barely even noticed her, his eyes locked onto Charon's. She poked the needle and and elicited a sharp yelp from the animal, but Charon held his head firmly and never stopped shushing. The stimpak removed, Fiona tossed it aside and crawled to Charon.

"How do you know how to do that?" she whispered, still a bit afraid to raise her voice or make sudden movements.

"Just time and experience," he answered. "And… I'm pretty sure I had a dog growing up." Charon paused as the memory slowly came into focus, blurry around the edges like an old holotape recording. "Yeah, I did. And he got clipped by a Chryslus once time when he got out of the house. Almost took my dad's arm off when he tried to pick him up…" he trailed off.

The two stayed with Dogmeat on the ground while the stimpak did its work. As Dogmeat's pain subsided he inched over to Fiona. He looked odd, with his tail held unusually low and his ears that normally stood straight up, held low and back. "He's sorry," Charon whispered.

Fiona smiled and extended her hand slowly like she'd seen Charon do. Within moments it was covered in thick saliva and Dogmeat seemed to relax. Fiona let out a breath she had been holding and relaxed as well. "Apology accepted… mutt." Charon couldn't help but laugh.

Luckily for the trio, they found the Red Racer factory a few miles to the northeast and were able to avoid other raider groups by staying quiet and off the main road. They stood in the partially enclosed parking area and stared at the less than impressive building. An image on the facade depicted the iconic red tricycle. It certainly didn't look like any mad scientists were housed inside. But then again, Fiona wasn't sure what a man scientist's lair was supposed to look like.

She wasn't sure about Charon, but Fiona was nervous as they stepped into the barely lit interior. It was eerily dark as her eyes adjusted. She looked around the area and saw exactly what one might expect from an abandoned factory. Wrecked office furniture littered the small workspace as it opened up to a series of covered walkways above a large factory floor. But before they were even two minutes into the building, Fiona and Charon heard the tell-tale screech of a feral ghoul.

Charon unholstered his shotgun and Fiona grabbed her plasma rifle. It occurred to Charon that he was a little annoyed that the expensive gift from Harkness was becoming her favorite weapon. But, as she critically wounded a feral ghoul rounding the corner and the creature collapsed into a pile of green goo, he couldn't argue with its effectiveness. But two more ghouls were close behind and Charon took up the slack as Fiona reloaded the microfusion cells in her gun.

The first ghoul that charged down the hall was tackled by Dogmeat and wrestled to the floor. The second, Charon expected to go down after a few shots, at most. But blast and after blast only seemed to stun it. He became momentarily worried as the ghoul backed him into a corner, screeching and swiping at his face with sharp bony fingers and Charon realized he only had one more shot before he needed to reload as well. Firing the last shell into the ghoul's face, the creature stumbled backwards… but did not fall. Charon hastily began to reload, cringing at the damage he was sure to take while he did. But before he could suffer the shredding power of the feral's grasp, the familiar sound of a SMG drew its attention.

The ghoul turned and charged at Fiona, clawing wildly at the air as Charon finished reloading. A blast to the back from Charon finally felled the creature moments before he reached her. The two looked down at the strange ghoul in shock. It was far stronger than most they had faced. Charon squatted down next to the corpse to search for some clue about where it came from or how it was able to survive as much damage as it did, when he heard the familiar beep of a detonator.

He grabbed Fiona and hauled her backwards. Charon had checked for tripwires and land mines but obviously had missed something and triggered a trap when he approached the body of the ghoul. He only had a split second to think and tossed Fiona into the corner, covering her with his large frame. And then the detonation occurred.

A small "pop" sounded from behind them. And then… nothing. There was no rush of heat and fire. No thundering boom. Charon slowly stood up and looked around curiously. Maybe whatever trap he'd stepped on had gone bad? Behind him, Fiona got to her feet.

"My hero," she teased, and tiptoed back over to the body. "Now what the fuck was up with this guy? He did not wanna go down…"

"It is strange," Charon admitted. "Most ferals go down far easier than that." He leaned over the body and noticed that the ghoul was outfitted with some light armor, but nothing that should have absorbed more than a fraction of the impact of his shot. Then, he noticed something far stranger. "Fi…" he whispered. "I didn't blow his head off. Did you?"

"No… I walked a trail up his back when he had you cornered. Why do you…" she paused when she saw what Charon meant. "Charon, where'd his head go?"

"My thoughts exactly. I think that," he pointed to the splattered gore and grey matter on the metal floor, "is what detonated."

"His head? I know slavers use detonator collars but… was he even wearing one?" she asked.

"No, he was not." Charon now had a very bad feeling about "the surgeon."

They found a terminal a few minutes later and Fiona was able to hack it after a few tries, hoping to find answers about whatever the madman was up to. "Shit. Charon, we were right. His head did explode." She moved aside to allow Charon to read the entries for himself.

_Entry 2R-A0_

_Some of my earlier chip prototypes (C6-A and C6-L) have started to malfunction causing the chips to overheat and eventually detonate the implanted charge. In retaliation I have upgraded to the P7 series and above to counter the malfunction. I have also altered the Y2 series in the mutants as a precaution. Ghouls are easily replaceable, mutants are not. _

_Entry 64-D-A3_

_I have had to alter the chips for the mutants to account for their grater size. Fortunately, they exhibit a higher intellect than the ghouls and can be controlled to an even greater extent. The enthralled mutants have mentioned legends of even larger mutants, almost twice as big as the ones I've have captured. If only I could get my hands on one of those the experiments the fun._

Charon's face was very dark when he finished reading the terminal entries. The surgeon was no better than anyone at the Institute. His progress was slow, but it was only a matter of time before the scientist moved on to sentient ghouls and humans for his experiments. A dark twisted knot formed in Charon's gut.

Fiona interrupted his thoughts. "Ok, so now we know there are mutants here too. And probably more of those really tough ghouls. So, we'll need to think more strategically. I'm willing to bet the surgeon is further in. Probably up in the offices. If we can get there," she placed a hand gently on Charon's and brought him out of his internal rage, "then we can get all his notes and research… and blow him to hell."

Charon squeezed her hand in return. "Sounds good."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hurray! Fi and Charon finally made it to the Red Racer Factory! You know, that one little factory and the mad scientist within triggered the inspiration for this entire fic. Charon was my companion when I went inside and as I hacked those terminals and read about controlling ghouls with implanted devices… the lightbulb went off. The next day I was outlining RIMCP. The fic is far from over, but this was a landmark chapter for me. I hope you all enjoyed!


	33. Chapter 33: Chauncey Bearington

Charon and Fiona crept quietly along the catwalk with Dogmeat awkwardly trotting behind them. The poor animal seemed to be unsure of where to place his feet on some of the broken sections that had been repaired with wooden planks. They found the entrance to the offices further into the building and carefully opened the door. The immediate area was clear, but the familiar sound of thunderous footsteps in the distance confirmed their fear; there were super mutants guarding the surgeon.

Fiona checked her pack. "We have nine frag mines," she whispered.

Charon nodded and they proceeded slowly down the hall. Sweeping the first room, they found nothing but rubble and debris. They continued across the hall, slightly closer to the source of the lumbering footsteps. This room housed several computer servers and another terminal. None of the mutants seemed to be headed their way, so Fiona took the opportunity to hack it. It took a bit longer than usual but when she finally unlocked the screen she seemed pleased.

"No way," she said in disbelief.

"What is it?" Charon asked.

"There is no fucking way it could be this easy. Charon," she motioned to the screen.

_Diary Entry L-2_

_I have used materials from the small explosives cache I found to further safeguard myself from my experiments. I have wired the building to broadcast a signal from this terminal that in an emergency will detonate all chips. I pray that day never comes. _

"So he can kill them all at once?" he muttered.

"Think we… should?" she asked.

"I don't see why not. If we do not use the kill switch we will have to kill the mutants the hard way, right?" Charon argued.

"True. But what if… what if it does something to you?" Fiona asked nervously.

He thought for a moment. "It detonates the explosive charges and just uses the chip as a receiver. I have a lot of shit in my head, but I think Barrows and Pinkerton would have found explosives."

"True. Still… what if your chip receives something on that frequency? Pinkerton said it was set up to receive signals and he didn't want to just start randomly trying codes. It might not trigger a tiny chunk of cerebral C-4, but it could do something else."

"You want to fight a bunch of enthralled super mutants?" Charon asked.

"Not really, but I'd also rather not… fry your brain." Fiona was genuinely worried.

He squatted next to her, still whispering. "It is up to you. I count at least 3 sets of footsteps in the next room, plus whatever else is further in."

Fiona smiled at him. "Charon," she took his head and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "We did not come all this way just to risk frying your brain. We're close. Let's do this right."

They continued creeping forward towards a larger room at the center of the floor. There was a work area in the middle and two sets of stairs on either side that led up to a small landing. The double doors in the center of the upper level were being guarding by two patrolling super mutants. There was also a third pair of footsteps coming from a hallway to their right and approaching slowly. Charon examined the situation but knew that sneaking up on any of the mutants would be nearly impossible. Unless…

He quietly dropped his pack and searched for something Fiona had given him weeks ago for an emergency. The stealth boy was still tucked neatly in the side of his pack. He took it and all the land mines he could carry and activated the stealth field. Fiona remained quiet in the shadows with Dogmeat, nervously holding a breath.

The familiar shimmer moved silently towards the steps. Charon waited for the mutant on the left to turn and pace away towards the center of the landing before carefully placing and arming the mines. Three small red dots of light appeared in the darkness, almost unnoticeable to a casual observer. He approached the second set of stairs and repeated the strategy. Both sets of stairs were now impossible to descend without triggering the mines. Charon turned to the small hallway at the right of the room and saw a mutant standing in the room at the very end, scratching his back with the end of a rusty sledgehammer. But as he began to place mines at the opening of the hallway…

"What was that?"

"Hellooo? Anyone there?"

The two patrolling mutants saw his shimmering movement from the landing and began making their way down the stairs. Charon quickly finished arming the mines at the hallway mouth and tried to dart back to a safe distance. But it was too late.

Fiona's mouth opened in a silent scream as the mutant closest to Charon's side of the room began making his way clumsily down the stairs and triggered the first mine. It stumbled, grabbed its leg and triggered the second and third mines. What would have normally been a victory turned sour as the huge creature fell and landed with a crashing boom right on top of where Fiona had seen Charon's stealth field only a moment ago.

She was pulled from her worry for a moment as the second mutant on the far side of the room ran down its set of stairs, but only triggered one of the mines somehow. She acted on instinct and turned her plasma rifle towards the approaching mutant, surprising it from the shadows. Fiona landed a few shots to its torso and one to its face, but the mutant didn't go down until Dogmeat grabbed it by the shin long enough to distract it while she reloaded. _Only thing I hate about this gun,_ she thought hastily as she slammed a microfusion cell into it with her fist. _Reloading sucks._ One more blast to the face ended the monster and she turned her attention to the remaining two.

The first mutant to trigger the mines was lying face down, but not dead. She could see it struggling to get up. She raised her rifle but hesitated. Charon was still in stealth and she didn't want to risk hitting him, especially with a plasma rifle. But now the mutant who had been lazily scratching himself at the end of the hallway was thundering towards the center of the room. She still saw no sign of Charon and with her heart in her throat, Fiona fired in the direction of the approaching mutant. It only slowed him down though, as he hit the mines at the mouth of the hallway at full force, triggering all three in a devastating explosion.

When the smoke cleared, the wounded mutant had been killed by the nearby explosion and the last remaining monster was crippled and crawling towards her, angrily swinging its sledgehammer by the wrist. Staying clear of the arc of its swing, Fiona finished it off with one shot to head. But her sense of victory did not last as she realized Charon still had not reappeared. Her chest tightened and eyes burned with tears. He had to be here, but why hadn't he fired at all during the fight?

"What the FUCK is going on out there?!"

Fiona startled and ducked back into shadows as a deep male voice bellowed from behind the closed doors at the top of the stairs. She continued to scan for any sign of Charon but saw not so much as a shimmer. When the doors opened a man she presumed to be the surgeon emerged. He wore a lab coat and what looked like a vault suit underneath. But his choppy mohawk and scarred face spoke of a previous life in which he had focused on… less scientific pursuits.

The "surgeon" returned to his lab, only to reemerge a moment later with a missile launcher. "Come out, come out, wherever you are…" he sang menacingly as he descended the stairs. _Goddammit is there a sale on missile launchers somewhere?_ she thought as she prepared to dodge her second missile attack of the hoped he would trip one of the undetonated land mines, but he was clever and quickly spotted and disarmed them both. Halfway to her hidden spot, the surgeon took aim with the launcher and prepared to fire a missile into the darkness. "Are you hidin' from me? Just like a little bi-" The surgeon's taunt was cut short and he dropped his missile launcher suddenly. His mouth gaping open, gasping for breath he fell to his knees for a moment before continuing forward and landing face down on the dingy floor.

Fiona stayed in the shadows for a moment, too confused and frightened to move. But then she saw a faint shimmer behind the body of the dead scientist.

"Charon!" she exclaimed, as the shimmering form flickered out to reveal the ghoul as he collapsed as well. She rushed to him and turned on her Pip Boy light to check for him for injuries. He was barely conscious as she swept the light over his face. He had an enormous gash on the side of his head that had just missed taking out his left eye. He also had some terrible burns on his neck and chest where he'd been caught in the blast from the mines. Pieces of leather armor were burned off entirely, revealing how bad the damage really was.

"Hey, you with me?" she asked.

"Mmhmm," he mumbled.

She grabbed plenty of stims and Med-X while she tried to distract him. "So, explosives don't seem to be working for us today. Between you and the dog getting fucked up, I think we should put away the things that go boom and just stick with guns, ok?" He mumbled something that sounded like an agreement, though Fiona couldn't make out the words. She started to worry as she began injecting stimpaks at multiple sites and bandaging his burns with rags soaked in his supply of irradiated water. The gash on Charon's face had begun mending but the worst of the burns had barely healed at all. They were pretty nasty but surely the stimpaks and radiation would heal them. Then Fiona realized something. The layers of skin that were damaged might already be dead. In which case, they wouldn't heal. Not for a ghoul.

"So, what happened?" she asked, trying to sound light-hearted and keep him conscious.

"Mutant… fell on me," he rasped. "Heavy fucker. I blacked out." He seemed to fade away for a moment before continuing. "Came to and saw… jackass. Stabbed him." Charon paused in confusion. "Am I on fire?"

"You're not on fire right now," she whispered. "But I think you were a minute ago. At least you were unconscious for it."

His head fell to the side as she continued to try and treat the burns. "How much came off?" he finally asked.

"How much… of what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Of _me_, smoothskin. Burns don't heal up as good as bullet wounds." He sounded resigned.

Fiona sighed and held his face. "I'm not sure yet. A patch on your left pectoral is gonna go, I think."

He nodded. "Just less of me to love," he slurred.

Her heart sank. Fiona could think of no response, heartfelt or otherwise. She just held him on the dirty office floor as the meds healed what flesh they could. They sat for a while in restful silence as Fiona knelt behind Charon with his head resting on her thighs. Finally, when the stimpaks and soaked bandages had done all they could, and the Med-X had sufficiently dulled the pain, Charon slowly sat up. He winced as his chest muscles contracted. Dogmeat immediately went to him and began meticulously licking the dried blood from his face.

"Shoo, dog," Charon mumbled tiredly. "Don't get a taste for ghoul blood." He rose stiffly and looked towards the double doors at the top of the stairs. They made their way up, with Fiona holding Charon's hand since she could tell he was still dizzy, and entered the surgeon's inner sanctum. It was… underwhelming.

A filthy operating table was set at the center of the room with various tools, desks and cabinets scattered around. A small alcove to the right made a living area with a twin bed, radio, refrigerator and shelves. Fiona walked Charon to the small bed and sat him upright with his back against the wall.

"You relax here and I'll look around, ok?" Charon nodded and leaned his head back against the crumbling plaster as Dogmeat joined him and curled up next to his legs.

Fiona took a moment to assess the area. She started with a terminal in the back corner and read the entries. The most recent log detailed the successful chip implantation of "Stefan", a glowing ghoul that was still locked up in the lab. He hissed and screeched from behind the gate that contained him whenever Fiona got too close. It felt more than little unsporting to shoot a caged feral but there were no other options.

Roughly an hour passed as she searched the disorganized files the surgeon had kept. But eventually Fiona found experiment notes, chip prototype diagrams, diagnostic programs and a number of other things she knew were useful but did not fully understand. The digital information was downloaded to her Pip Boy and the rest she stored neatly in a folder that she stuffed in the back of her pack.

She returned to check on Charon and saw that he was still awake and staring at her. She sat down next to him and examined his head. The wound was completely closed, although she knew he might still be concussed. The edges of his burns had healed nicely and the living tissue was recovered. But the skin at the center of the burn had not changed at all. Charon hissed as she touched the area.

"Sorry," she whispered. "What should I do about it? Do I need to remove-"

"No," he said quickly. "I will take care of it. Later." He gently moved her hand away from the burns. He knew he needed to remove the dying skin within a day or two or else he would risk loosing even more. But his pride would not allow him to let Fiona help with the gruesome task.

She let the subject drop. "How does your head feel?"

"Better than an hour ago. Way worse than… two hours ago," he deadpanned.

Fiona couldn't help but smile. "Making jokes, huh? You really _did_ hit it hard." She crawled into his lap and straddled him. "Any dizziness? Nausea? Blurry vision?"

"A little bit of all three. But it is not severe," he said softly.

Gently, she leaned forward and left a trail of feather light kisses from his forehead to his chin. Charon's eyes fluttered shut as his body relaxed. "We're gonna rest here for a bit, ok? I'm pretty sure you've got a concussion," she whispered.

They napped together for a few hours on the dirty mattress and when they awoke Charon was feeling much better. His concussion symptoms had mostly subsided and he was able to eat and drink. Since she had found everything of interest in the surgeon's lab there was no real reason to stay any longer. But before they left, the building had to be picked clean. Their packs were lighter than when they entered and Fiona realized that her funds were dwindling since she'd spent the last week chasing her father, stuck in virtual reality and then following her father some more.

The building wasn't rich with valuable items, but a good scavenger can always find treasures somewhere. So, as Fiona picked through filing cabinets and under buckets, Charon patrolled the factory floor for any remaining ghouls. Fiona was bent over, rooting through a desk in the small office space just off the floor. He couldn't help but admire the view. She had lost weight since they'd met and her figure wasn't as curvy as it once was. But she still had a perfect ass. He let out a heavy breath as he tore his eyes away and swept his gaze to the ceiling. It would do no good to get worked up right now.

But then, something else caught his eye. There was a giant model of a Red Racer tricycle hanging from the ceiling. And perched on top of it… was the biggest teddy bear Charon had seen since before the bombs fell. The oversized toy was seated as if it were riding the cycle in mid-air. Charon smiled as the idea hit him. It wasn't valuable, but it was rare. He made his way around the back of the machinery and propped a barrel against the wall. He climbed precariously to the top of the assembling unit and walked towards the large hanging model. Fiona was still busy in the office and had not noticed his climb. Charon carefully leaned forward and grabbed the stuffed animal before quietly descending back the way he came. He nervously approached Fiona as she finished relieving the office space of any tradable goods, keeping the gift out of sight around a corner. She turned to face him and the way she smiled at him was indescribable. _Her father may be right,_ he thought, _but there's no way I can give her up. _

Charon awkwardly pulled his gift from its hiding spot. "I found this… um, it's for you," he said with his heart beginning to speed up. It had seemed like a great idea only a few short moments ago, but now as he held the object out he wondered if he was wrong. He wasn't sure Fiona even liked these sorts of things. Absurdly large stuffed animals were cute souvenirs to win for a girl at a pre-war carnival, but they had no real value or purpose in the wasteland. But Charon's hopes were restored as her smile grew wide and she gratefully accepted the novelty item.

They returned to the Jefferson Memorial the next morning, having traveled through the night. They made quite a sight as they walked through the old gift shop. Fiona had the oversized stuffed animal strapped to her pack with a leather belt. The bear's large head bounced slightly with each step she took. Charon and Dogmeat trailed behind. The few scientists who were up at this early hour stopped and stared.

"Oh my gosh, that is so cute!," chimed Janice Kaplinski, one of the scientists working on the contaminant filters. Fiona's impression of the woman was slightly more positive than the others. She was brilliant certainly, but she didn't seem to take it for granted or look down on those who were not. Janice sat up from the notes she was busily writing to admire the toy. "Where'd you get that cute ole' bear? And in such good condition too."

Fiona just smiled brightly and motioned to Charon. "It was a gift," she said simply.

"Awww," Janice said nervously and a bit surprised. "That's… sweet."

They got a few more stares as they continued to the basement but no one other than Janice tried to speak to them. When they reached the small room they had claimed for themselves, Fiona freed the bear from the leather strap and propped it against the wall.

"I am glad you like it," Charon whispered. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist tenderly. He gave a gentle squeeze and Fiona hummed in appreciation. Charon lowered his head to hers, and rested his forehead on her crown.

Their height difference was substantial but Fiona just smiled. There was something reassuring about being wrapped up in large arms and towered over protectively. She leaned her back to to his chest even further. "Of course I like it. You know, I was thinking on the walk back here. This is the first… I dunno what to call it… courting gift, I guess, that I've ever gotten." She grinned and turned around in his arms.

Charon sighed. "You don't think it's creepy? With his beady little teddy bear eyes?" he teased her.

This got a belly laugh from Fiona. "No, not at all. When I wandered into that old utility building or factory or whatever, and saw two dozen bears all posed and staring, _that_ was creepy. But only because of their sheer numbers and the scary ambiance. Chauncey Bearington… the third… is not creepy. He's a very classy bear and I think he will bring some much needed culture to Megaton," Fiona said in mock seriousness.

Charon gave her a crooked smile. "You gave that a lot of thought, huh Fi?"

She bit her lip and shrugged. "Yeah, I did. On the walk back actually. I know I need to be aware at all times and constantly scan for threats. And I do! But I can't stop my brain from multi-tasking, Charon. Even when I'm focused my mind is doing at least one or two other things in the background."

He shook his head and ran his hands along her back. "Then you are not _truly_ focused are you?"

She leaned up and kissed Charon on the chin. "Focused enough," she whispered. She ran her hands from his shoulders down to his chest in an attempt to be seductive. But he let out a sharp hiss of pain. "Damn it," she cursed. "Sorry… again. You really need to get that patched up, Charon."

He sighed and nodded. "I will take care of it." He paused and looked at her. "Privately, if that is alright."

Fiona felt hurt for a moment, but understood. Charon may have accepted his condition a long time ago but he was still self-conscious around her. She simply nodded and kissed his cheek. "Do you need any extra supplies? I'm sure my dad has some stuff to we can use to sterilize… wait, do you even have a scalpel?"

Charon pulled his combat knife from its sheath. "Of sorts."

Fiona sighed and put her head in her hands. "Will you at least let my dad take a look?"

Charon grumbled. "No offense to your dad, but I doubt he has any 'training in ghoul physiology.' And anyway, I've done this before."

"I'm sure he won't be an unprofessional asshole like Preston was," she argued. "And… I'm not sure he _hasn't_ treated ghouls before. I mean, until a few months ago I thought he'd been born in 101 like everyone else. Or rather, like everyone else claimed to be. I wonder how many of them are wastelanders in disguise." She broke out of her derailed train of thought and continued. "Anyway, he might have treated ghouls before." But Charon did not seem to be warming up the idea.

"Your father is one of the last people I want to witness my deterioration," he said softly.

"Ok," Fiona relented. "But I am fetching you some decent medical supplies. It's unacceptable to to use an unsterilized combat knife and old teeshirt in place of a scalpel and bandages. At least when those things are available." Charon knew that tone all too well. She wasn't ordering him directly, but he knew better than to argue any more about the issue. So he simply nodded while Fiona fetched the supplies.

Alone in the basement, Charon removed his jacket and the shirt underneath. Both had identical holes in them where they had been burned away to nothing. He had enough money to get them repaired, or even replaced entirely. And that felt good. It was the only thing that felt good as he set them aside and inspected his charred skin. A patch almost the size of his fist on the left side of his chest was permanently dead. He sighed and leaned his head against the wall. It wasn't as if he thought he'd never lose another patch of skin. But the last several decades had been good to him in terms of necrosis. In fact, his condition had stayed more or less the same for nearly 80 years. To lose a patch this big after so long was a blow. And in front of Fiona, it felt even worse. He heard light footsteps in the hall and turned his head to see her approaching with medical supplies in her hand. Charon accepted the sterilized scalpel and bandages gratefully and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'll give you your privacy. But I'll be right outside if you need anything," Fiona said lovingly. She sat on the steps down the hall and waited. And waited. Fiona was torn. She really wished Charon would let someone do this for him. But, as he had said, it would not be his first time taking things into his own hands. And she understood why he didn't want her or her father to see one of the unfortunate realities faced by ghouls.

A pair of footsteps coming from behind her broke Fiona out of her thoughts. "Dad," she said softly.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said. He sat on the stairs next to her. "I heard from Janice that you were back. And borrowing medical supplies from the first aid kits. Is everything alright?" He stared down the hall curiously, unable to see into the room where Charon was tending to his injury.

"I'm fine, dad. Charon got injured last night and he's in there tending to the wound. He wanted… privacy. So I'm waiting for him to finish."

"Is it something I can help with?" he asked, craning his neck to see around the corner. But Fiona gave him a light slap on the shoulder.

She whispered, "I told him to let someone else take care of it but he insisted on being macho and removing his own…" She trailed off, a bit ashamed of herself. If she couldn't even say it out loud then perhaps Charon was right to insist she not watch. "He got some burns. Some of it isn't going to heal."

Her father nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry to hear that." He sighed softly. "Fiona, as time goes on more of this will happen and-" James stopped abruptly when his daughter gave him a death stare he'd not seen in in over 19 years. She really did look like her mother when she was angry. He raised his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you've already considered that."

Fiona nodded and turned her head away. But inside she was worried. She had been around enough ghouls to know what possibilities to expect from the future. But imagining Charon deteriorating in any way, physically or cognitively, was devastating. The thought of him ever going feral was unbearable.

"I'm finished, Fi," she heard Charon's rough voice call out. "It came off clean so I won't even have to wear a bandage for more than a few hours, I think. So…" Charon emerged with clean bandages expertly wrapped around his chest to cover the freshly exposed muscle. He stopped short when he saw her father was waiting as well. Suddenly self-conscious, Charon paused and grabbed the tattered shirt off the floor behind him and threw it quickly over his head. Clearing his throat he said, "Sorry it took so long." He gave Fiona a sheepish smile and glanced inquisitively to James.

Fiona gave Charon a chaste kiss on the lips. "Don't worry about it." She turned to her father. "Dad heard we were back and came to say hi." The two men stared awkwardly at one another for a moment before simply nodding in acknowledgment of the other's presence.

"Well," James said, "did you two at least find whatever it was you were looking for on your errand?"

"We did," Fiona replied. "But we'll be heading out again a little later," she said, being intentionally vague.

"Well, before you do, I was wondering if you could help me in the lab for a little while. It's nothing too technical," her father reassured her. "I just need someone to document results as I read them out. Everyone else on the team has their hands full at the moment."

Fiona agreed with her father's assurance that she would only be needed for an hour or two at most. Meanwhile, Charon found himself with nothing to do. He and Dogmeat patrolled the outside of the monument, but mutant corpses turned out to be the best deterrent to predators one could ask for. It sent a very clear message that whoever was inside was not to be trifled with. So, after an hour of walking around with nothing to to shoot at, Charon leaned against the railing on the scaffolding out front and smoked to pass the time. He kept glancing nervously towards the broken bow section of Rivet City.

He inhaled deeply from his cigarette and focused on the familiar tingle of nicotine. If Pinkerton could pull this off, he would be free. Charon couldn't even remember what freedom felt like like, but his time with Fiona had brought him closer to it than he'd been since the Capital Wasteland was simply the Capital. He took another long drag and listened to the distant metallic groaning of Rivet City.

Charon never really prayed before the war, even though he had every reason to. Between his family's Catholic upbringing and his dangerous line of work in SpecOps, Charon should have found comfort in the promise of eternal rewards and answered prayers. Plenty of other people had. But the mental pleading had always seemed forced and hollow to him. Even as a child he had only ever gone through the motions of prayer, worship and endless Catholic rituals. He had a very strong suspicion that his entire family felt the same way. For them, religion had more to do with cultural identity than spirituality anyway.

After the war, most people thought either there was no God, God was dead (or out to lunch) or that the cleansing fire of the apocalypse was divine retribution for sins of greed/lust/wrath/etc. Charon hadn't given the topic much thought in the months after the end of the world. He was too busy being tortured and reprogrammed to let his mind wander into such philosophical territory. So now, at the precipice of possible freedom, he took a moment to search himself before the plunge.

Charon hung his head in an approximation of what had once been expected in those weekly public displays of faith. But prayer still seemed forced and hollow. He let loose a heavy sigh and lit another cigarette. There was no point in faking it. Instead, he just closed his eyes and thought about what he wanted.

He wanted the procedure, whatever it would entail, to be successful. That was a given. And once he was his own man again, he hoped things would make sense. There was a small part of him that feared the uncertainty that would come with being able to live his own life as he saw fit. What if he had spent too long as an "employee" and couldn't function without someone to lead him?

Charon wanted to trust Pinkerton. The man was not as twisted as the men at the Institute, but he was not a beacon of ethical practices either. The old reclusive genius was their best option. Both he and Fiona knew this. But it didn't change the small feeling of dread he had when he thought about what Pinkerton might use this technology for in the future. As humiliating as it would be, he'd rather have Fiona's father do the procedure. At least Charon knew James would never take advantage of him or use the chips to do harm. But the specifics of the Institute technology were not in his area of expertise.

Charon sighed heavily as his last cigarette burned down to the filter. He wanted whatever connection he and Fiona had to remain unchanged. As it was, the two of them were bound to each other. She held his contract and did not take that responsibility lightly. He was bound to her as his contract-holder. Perhaps the fear was unwarranted, but Charon was concerned that once the contract no longer mattered, the connection that had developed between the two of them would be weakened somehow. His stomach tightened and his head ached as the technology inside of him rebelled against the unsanctioned thoughts. He would no longer _have_ to stay by her side. She would no longer have to let him.

The sound of light boots clanking on the metal walkway stirred Charon from his thoughts. "All finished," Fiona announced. "I didn't understand a lot of what I wrote down, but dad assured me that the results were all good. The purifier is running more efficiently now than it ever has. Granted, we still need to find a damn G.E.C.K. before it will be able to do anything on a grand scale. But hey, one thing at a time, right?" She leaned against the railing next to him and smiled softly. "Are you ok, Charon? You look… contemplative."

He gave a short chuckle. "I guess I am. Just hoping everything goes well. Or that Pinkerton doesn't fry my brain at the very least."

Fiona took his hand and squeezed it. "I won't let him touch you until he's sure he knows what he's doing. Are you ready?"

"Fuck yes," Charon said without hesitation.

They were both tense and they joined hands and made the walk towards Rivet City. With luck, by this time tomorrow everything would be different.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I have the giant teddy bear sitting on my bed in Megaton. When I saw it hanging over the factory floor I HAD to have it. And then give it a cameo in my fic. :-P


End file.
